02x05 - The Duke of Edinburgh Awards

[bunniefuu]

I was no stranger to Gilbert's office.
I often popped by with a complaint

or a suggestion
on how the school could be better run.

But today was different,
he'd actually invited me.

Sit down.

I'm glad to be here
because I needed to talk to you about...

- Shut up.
- Sure.

The headmaster has decided
it would be a good idea

for sixth formers to participate
in the Duke of Edinburgh Awards scheme.

- I'd like you to co-ordinate it.
- Me? Really?

Duke of Edinburgh representative
for the entire year?

- Yes.
- I am honoured, sir.

Thanks very much. Why me?

You're a virgin, aren't you?

Sorry?

A virgin. You haven't had
full sexual intercourse?

No.

Well, there's your answer.
Now get out.

Maybe we should arrange a weekly
meeting to check on my progress.

You can if you like,
but I won't be there.

Or I could compose a regular memo
with how it's all going.

- Drop that in my pigeonhole.
- Great. Where's that, sir?

Any bin.

Any rubbish bin you see in,
or indeed, out of the school.

Just pop all your thoughts in a
rubbish bin, and they'll get to me.

Bye, McKenzie.

So now I was Will McKenzie
"By Royal Appointment".

But like all great leaders, I need
some idiots to use as cannon fodder.

- Now, where would I find some idiots?
- Here, look at this.

Holy sh*t! Poor f*ck's
had all his hair removed with Immac.

What?

It's what birds use
to get a nice smooth fanny.

I think my mum uses it for her legs.

She wants to use it on her moustache
and the backs of her hands!

- Brilliant!
- Gilbert just told me some great news.

School's giving free briefcases
to speccy twats?

- No.
- Your mum gives free blow jobs?

- Not about my mum.
- You've been asked to appear

on Who's The Gayest?

Don't think that's even a real show.
Listen this!

Gilbert has registered the school
for the Duke of Edinburgh Awards,

- and I'm the co-ordinator.
- I thought you had good news?

This is good news.

Think how good a Duke of Edinburgh
Award will look on our UCAS forms.

Now it sounds awesome!

Simon, trust me, this will look
great on our uni applications.

We get to help the community and also do
some pretty incredible activities, like

whitewater rafting, abseiling,
even mountain climbing.

Sounds really g*y.

Who is this Duke of Edinburgh?
Does he teach it?

No, course he doesn't teach it,
you f*cking idiot.

The Duke of Edinburgh
is Prince Charles.

No, he isn't. It's his dad.

King Philip?

I mean, that is the Duke of Edinburgh
you're thinking of but

- he's not the king.
- He f*ck the Queen, though.

- Probably up the arse.
- Do you want to sign up or not?

You've gotta be f*cking joking.
There's no way

I'm getting bummed by
some royal bloke on a mountain.

Yes, I'm in.

- Why, you twat?
- I've never met the Queen.

- I'll think about it.
- Come on!

You can't just have
"moping after Carli" on your UCAS form.

- I do loads of things in my spare time.
- Masturbating doesn't count as a hobby.

- f*ck it, go on, then.
- Great. I'll go and register us now.

See you Sunday!

Sunday?

Yes, Sunday.

My mum's barbecue?

- Do you remember I invite you to?
- Not really.

Don't worry, I'm coming. Wherever
your mum's snatch is, I'll be there.

So the good news for fans of
overcooked meat, tedious small talk

and weird neighbours was
it was my mum's barbecue,

and it was rocking.

This is a sh*t party.

It's a middle-aged woman's barbecue.
Were you expecting the Playboy Mansion?

Still sh*t.

Si, I just saw your mum inside.
She looked pretty upset.

No! Blubbing?

She was a bit, yeah.

Bloody hell! She's been a total baby
since Dad moved out.

- Your dad's moved out?
- It's not biggy.

It was bad lately,
so he left for a few weeks

- while they sort stuff out.
- Like her face?

It'll take more than weeks
to sort that mess out.

Shut up, you c*ck!

Do you maybe want to check she's OK?

Not really. I've had it all week.
It's so embarrassing.

- Do you want me to get rid of her?
- No, it's fine.

OK, I'd better go and mingle.
Don't break or steal anything.

We'll just go inside and get a beer.

- No, you are banned from going inside.
- Why?

Because you'll do something
like steal my mum's knickers

to sniff and then wank with.

- With?
- Yes, with.

And then you'll take
great pleasure in telling me

how you wrapped my mother's knickers
round your c*ck

and used the friction generated whilst
thinking about her t*ts to make you c*m.

Hello, Will.

Hello.

Simon, do you mind if we go?

Bloody hell, really?

OK! Fine!

While Simon offered his mother
a surly shoulder to cry on,

I mingled
with a fellow tank top enthusiast.

Shouldn't you be revising?

Yes. One day off won't hurt.

It might do.
My nephew went to Center Parcs

six weeks before his entrance exam
to Oxford.

He didn't make the cut,
decided to take a year out.

All his friends went to university.

By the time they returned for
Christmas, he'd hanged himself.

Right.

Thanks, Roy.

- Sorry!
- Hello! You probably don't remember me.

I used to baby-sit you.

No, course I do. You're Daisy,
Maggie's daughter.

Nice to see you again.
You look really different.

You don't. I recognised your glasses
straight away and your funny walk.

- People still laugh at your funny walk?
- Did people laugh at my walk?

No.

- A... bit.
- Great!

Sorry, it's not that funny.
It's just... different.

- To a normal one?
- Yes, but who wants normal?

Well, me now!

There's a guy at uni with six toes.
Everyone loves him.

Right, good to know.
So what are you doing here?

Well, I was invited.

Yes, course.
I'm working part-time

at the old folk's home,
thought I'd pop by.

What an incredibly
selfless thing to do!

Not really.

I'm hoping one of the rich ones
might write me into their will.

Sounds great.

Amazing.

Well, we're always
on the lookout for volunteers.

Really? We're doing
a volunteering scheme at school.

Maybe you could get us
into the home.

It's an old people's home.
There's not a waiting list.

Yes. Sorry, course.

So, you're still at school?

Technically, yes,
but I'm very mature.

- Right, you coming?
- God. Look.

- Sorry, I have to deal with something.
- What's happened?

My friends have just gone
into my house.

- It doesn't sound catastrophic.
- You don't know them.

Look, can you wait there?

I'm off soon, but do get in touch
about the volunteering.

Now let's see that funny walk again.

- Really?
- For old times' sake.

I don't really know how I do it.

There it is!

Daisy was perfect for me.

She was older, more sophisticated,
caring and best of all,

owned her own nurse's uniform.

I've got some great news.
I spent the morning setting up

our first D of E assignment.
It's today after school.

- The what?
- D of E.

It stands for "Duke of Edinburgh".

It's what people refer to it as.

We need to pack?
Is it mountain climbing?

- No.
- I hope it's whitewater rafting.

- Nope!
- What are we doing?

We're doing voluntary work
at an old people's home.

- Up a mountain?
- No, just round the corner from school.

- Will, for f*ck's sake!
- But Prince Charles'll be there?

- No.
- Will, do we have to do this?

There are several different modules
and this is one of them, so... yes.

I am well glad I'm not doing it.

I'm glad too,
cos you always f*ck things up.

And as this is important to me,
I don't want you anywhere near it.

Yes, it's important for you to
spend time at an old people's home,

because you're a paedo.

If I did fancy old people,
which I don't,

that would make me
the opposite of a paedo.

He is right.

- Well, then, he's an OAPaedo.
- Brilliant!

- You're desperate for a gum job.
- Am I?

"Hello, I'm Will. Pop your teeth out,
Doris, and have a little nosh on this."

- Right. Any more?
- Yeah, give us a minute.

Something about you needing
a queering aid.

I decided not to mention
that Daisy was the real reason,

we had to spend the next weeks
nursing the elderly,

and focused on the positives.

Great guys.

Think of stories these people will have,
how much we can learn from them.

Is it going to be boring,
like reading?

f*ck!

- It don't smell great.
- Guys,

it is such a cliche
that old people smell.

- I thought you were better than that.
- But it does smell in here.

In here, granted, it does smell.

But the point is, we're here
to change things for these people.

That's what the D of E Award's
all about.

Great!

Let's skip the abseiling
and just watch this lot sleep, then!

I promise this'll be worth it.

Hello!

- Hello.
- I think I've done a poo.

That's not good. Wait there.

- Thank God, Daisy.
- Hello again.

Great to see you.
Now, I've got a bit of a problem.

Is it the smell? You get used to it.

No, I've helped an old lady
to the toilet

and now she is in and I didn't realise
the help would extend to helping her go

and I don't want to see her...

You know...

Fanny?

- Yeah.
- You don't like fannies, then?

No, love them, love the fannies.

It's just an old lady's fanny.
Not that she isn't a person.

It's just her fanny
is... hers and is... private.

Why am I talking about old fannies?
Why am I talking about fannies at all?

- Is she there?
- Yes.

That's fine. You get used
to the fannies. And the ba*ls.

They're lovely old boys here,
but, goodness, some of their ba*ls!

Wish me luck!

So what do we do?

- Just keep an eye on them, I guess.
- To make sure we don't lose any?

- They'll not try an escape, I think.
- My tortoise kept running away.

- What has that got to do with anything?
- Well, that was old and wrinkly.

Dead now, of course.

Off you go, Phyllis. Just give us
a bit more warning next time.

- Sorry, I was a bit useless there.
- It just takes practice.

We'll soon turn you into the
Florence Nightingale of old arses.

- How do you do it?
- Front to back.

No, I mean dedicating your life
to helping others.

It's just a job.

And I'm not feeling
particularly dedicated today.

- Anything I can do to help?
- No.

I can't get tomorrow off to go
to my friend's party.

Well, I'll be around tomorrow.

And so will my friends.
We could cover for you!

That's sweet, but I'd need cover
for the overnight shift, too.

I'll do that myself!
I'll stay up all night if I have to.

Seriously?

You shall go to the ball,
Cinderella!

You're such a twat,

but a very sweet one. Thanks.

- I owe you one.
- Then let me take you to dinner.

- Dinner?
- Yes, dinner.

Is it not old for you?

I'm mature for my age. Normally it's a
curse, but now it seems worthwhile.

All right, go on, then.

- Friday?
- Great.

Cool, I'll see you then.
Thanks again, toy boy!

Yes! I'd done it. My ex-baby-sitter
had agreed to go out with me,

and all I had to do was ask her.

And pretend my mates were happy
to spend time to bathe geriatrics.

So, how was your evening
with the zombies, then?

Creepy. Glad I'm not going back.

What?

- Sorry, I can't do it any more.
- What do you mean?

You've got to cover
an extra shift tonight.

You can't do this to me!

I've got to go and see my dad.

Now he's moved out, apparently
I've got to spend time with him.

It's such a wind-up.

f*ck! This is a f*cking disaster!

I promised Daisy
the three of us would cover her.

There's a bird involved.
Now I get it.

Oh, God! I can't let her down.

She's agreed to go to dinner with me
to say thanks for covering.

Dinner!

- Maybe she won't mind.
- Course she'll mind!

She's only going
cos he's doing her a favour.

It's tragic.

- God!
- Jay, why don't you cover?

- f*ck off. I've got things to do.
- What did you do last night, then?

- Went down the park.
- The park? Did you play on the swings?

At least I don't have to wipe old
arse for the next three months

just to get a Duke of Spastic Award.

Come on, Jay. Just think of it
as doing me a huge favour.

Why would I do you a favour?

- For money?
- I would do it for money. How much?

It's Neil's idea. I'm not going
to pay you to do voluntary work.

- 30 quid and I'll do it.
- 40.

If you get this nurse bird to
nosh you off, then it's a bargain.

You really are a vile human being.

- Tenner?
- 20.

- God. All right, then, done.
- Yep.

Sometimes, you just have to
dance with the devil...

or do voluntary work
with a sex pest.

Without doubt, the worst thing
about your dad leaving home

is having to eat at places like
Little Chef and the Big Steakhouse

while he tries to bond with you.

Look,
I know this stuff with your mum

is tough for you guys.
You've probably got a lot of questions.

- Can I get a new car?
- Then I want a new computer.

- You had a new computer last year.
- You got a new car six months ago.

Yeah, but it's sh*t.

Boys. I meant questions
about your mum and me.

Not really. Can I go now?

It's been really good to see you.

I'm sorry to dump on you like this, but
I've not got anyone else to talk to.

- It's OK, Dad, I understand.
- It's just...

Things are complicated with your mum
and me, not just sexually.

- It's getting late now, Dad.
- She had a huge appetite for it.

- Huge!
- Please,

- Don't, please...
- I wish I could stop my urges,

problem solved.

But I'm a very sexual person.
Always have been.

- Is it the same for you?
- I'd better get going.

Yeah, OK.

Dad...

Everything is going to be OK, right?

I hope so.

Look, maybe at the weekend
we can have a look around some car lots,

see if we can't get an upgrade
on the yellow peril.

Thanks. That'd be brilliant.

One more thing.
Can I borrow your laptop for a few days?

The movie channels in here are a little
bit soft, if you get what I mean.

So while Simon was struggling
to keep his mixed grill down,

in his place I had Jay
helping me out at the home.

Lucky me.

Careful, you'll wake Brian.

f*cking hell! If you love Brian's old
c*ck so much, why don't you marry him?

This is boring.

- I'm going for a quick tug.
- What, in here?

Nah. There must be a spare room
around here somewhere.

There's a bedroom free if you want.

- Perfect.
- Someone died in it. It may be haunted?

I don't know, but it'll be covered
in ectoplasm when I'm finished.

- Cos of the ghosts?
- No, cos I'll spunk all over it!

The problem pages in these
are w*nk*ng gold.

See you later, mug!

My plan to impress Daisy
was working,

apart from Jay masturbating
into a resident's sink

and me being so knackered
from covering the overnight shift

that I fell asleep at school,
never a good idea.

Here he is.

Sleeping Ugly.

Get any grey minge last night, eh?

I know
why you was really there overnight.

You got a geriatric girlfriend,
didn't you?

I bet you creep into her room,
kiss her on the false teeth

and then slide right up inside
her powdery old fanny.

He's asleep, I reckon.

Oh, my God!

I don't believe it. It's perfect.

What you got there?

Hair-removal cream,
like in them photos.

I nicked it from Sadie Cunningham's
bag during registration.

Her bush'll go out of control,
but this'll be well worth it.

- No way!
- Give us a hand, Neil.

Shouldn't need too much.

He's probably only got four pubes
and he pisses through one of them.

So, unbeknownst to me,
I'd been robbed of my pubic hairs.

The date with Daisy was few hours away
and I had alopecia of the ball bag.

Terrifyingly,
Simon was my only hope.

This story with my dad
is doing my head in.

I know mate, but it'll get better.

I bloody hope so.
Christ, he's boring!

He keeps trying to talk to me
man to man. I can't bear it.

We still need help
at the old people's home if you want.

Anything, so I don't have to hear
about my parents' sex life.

- Is that a yes?
- Yes!

Can I have my shitty
voluntary job back, please?

Great. I get to sack Jay.
That'll be good.

Are you sure you're OK
about your mum and dad?

Yeah, yeah. They'll sort it out.

Well, I just want you to know
I'm here for you.

- Thanks, mate.
- Just like I know

that you're there for me
if I need you.

- Yeah, course.
- Good, cos I need you to do something.

- OK. What is it?
- Have a look at my c*ck.

Not in a g*y way.
Something's gone wrong.

I think looking at your c*ck at all
is a bit g*y.

Please, I'm serious.
All my pubes have fallen out.

- What?
- I was asleep at school

and must have had a wet dream
cos it was all sticky...

- You spunked in the common room?
- Yes, but listen!

I went home to clean up and all
my pubes came off in the shower.

Sorry, you spunked your pants

in the common room during the day,

- when there were people around?
- Yes.

- And then your pubes fell out?
- Yes!

- This is way out of my league.
- Just look.

Normally, it wouldn't matter,
but I've got that date with Daisy.

What if she wants more than a snog?

Even a snog's unlikely,
no offence, but go on.

Well, if the miracle does happen
and she touches or, worse,

sees the bald old fella,
what's she going to think?

- That you're a porn star?
- Look at me.

I don't think she's gonna
think I'm a porn star.

Maybe you could draw some pubes on
with a marker pen.

OK, good idea. And after that, maybe
I'll draw a six-pack on my stomach!

- Or a longer c*ck!
- Or wearing a wig down there?

Good idea! A c*ck wig!

What sort of idea is that?!
f*cking wig!

If you don't want my help, I'll go.

I'm sorry if I seem a little stressed.
It's just I've got no f*cking pubes!

Sorry, Simon, I do want your help.

- Please look at my c*ck.
- No!

Simon was useless,
and soon it was time for my date.

Despite my alarming lack of pubes,
I tried to put on a brave face.

You look nice. I'm just going to
wash my hands, then we'll go.

- Yeah. Great.
- I'll meet you outside.

Fantastic.

It may have been a rush of blood
to my head,

or maybe the slight chill
around my ba*ls,

but suddenly Simon's c*ck-wig advice
seemed my best shot.

- You ready?
- Yeah, sure am.

It was itchy,
but I kind of liked it.

I cannot believe that plum Will
is gonna pay me for yesterday

when all I did was watch TV
and slope off for a crafty wank.

I'm being paid to wank.
It's my perfect job.

And tomorrow,
I get 20 quid to do it all over again.

You go to an old people's home
and wank off?

Doesn't that seem weird to you?

Sometimes I even slip a finger
up my arse while doing it.

Well, I'm going back tomorrow, you need
to find somewhere else to bash one out.

No, I'll still be there.
Easiest money I've ever earned.

- He won't pay if you are useless.
- Yes, he will.

He's got to give me notice.

I'm a paid voluntary worker.
I've got rights.

- Hi, Simon.
- Dad? What are you doing here?

Me and your mum are just
talking things through.

Oh, great. That's great.
Yeah, listen, you got any johnnies?

So while Simon's parents
had noisy, unprotected sex,

my dinner date was going well,

considering I had
a pensioner's wig in my pants.

Did I just drink a whole bottle
of Pinot Grigio?

I wasn't keeping score,
but it looked like that.

God. And I only really came
to dinner to say thank you

- for doing my shift the last time.
- My pleasure. It was easy.

It was as quiet as the place
directly before the grave.

- You're funny.
- I try.

- No, I really do try.
- God, come here.

- Nice.
- What am I doing? You're so young.

Yes, I am, but...

No, for God's sake, don't talk.
Just come back with me.

I can't believe I'm doing this.
I'm going to blame the white wine.

This was amazing. And although,
in her role as a nurse,

I was sure Daisy had seen genitalia
much more horrific than mine,

she probably hadn't seen someone
with a wig stuffed down there.

So after 17 years of trying
to get girls to touch my p*nis,

I was now doing everything
I could to prevent it.

- What the f*ck is this?
- Daisy, I'm sorry.

- Please let me explain.
- Is it a wig?

It's a long story,

but I've just not got
any hair down there.

No. No, of course you haven't.

I forget how young you are.

I shouldn't be doing this.
You're a child!

No, no, no, it's not that.
I have had hair...

I'm sorry. Please forgive me.
I know you're not ready,

you should be allowed to mature
at your own pace.

Look, forget about the hair!
It still works.

Touch it. You might like it.

I'm sorry.

Is this Phyllis's wig?

So my stupid, hairless gonads
had ruined it for me.

And even worse, we still had two
weeks' tedious voluntary work left.

Why stay here?
You're not pay for it.

I like them.
They're like people, too.

- You fancy them, is what you mean.
- No, it's just

people like Brian, they've lived.

- I think they're boring.
- Yeah,

but it's a different boring,
you know?

No.

- Right, I think it's about that time.
- What, again?

With as much spunk as I have,
you need to release the valve.

I've got it down to about


- You want a copy of Hello!?
- No, I've done that cover to cover.

I need some new material.

I even had to have a wank
over Fern Britton the other day.

If you see Baldy Bollocks,
cover for us.

Daisy, listen, I just wanted to try
and clear the air about last night.

I'm sorry, I'm too embarrassed.
I've got to sort out a new resident.

I don't know what happened.

I used to have loads of hair
down there.

It went all over my ba*ls, and I've
still got loads in my arse crack!

Will, sometimes it's better
just not to say anything.

So while I was
flogging a dead horse,

Jay was thinking about
flogging something else,

and in his never-ending quest
for fresh material,

he plumbed new depths.

Hello! Who's that?

God!

I'm so sorry.

Don't worry, love.
I've seen it all before.

- I thought it was empty.
- Your mum's settling in OK.

This is Jay. He's helping out
as part of Duke of Edinburgh.

How nice.
Thanks for looking after Mum.

He did that looking at me.

- Thanks a bunch, Jay. Nice job!
- I didn't do nothing.

- Really? Didn't sound like nothing.
- It was a misunderstanding.

I don't know why you're being
so f*cking menstrual.

Maybe I'm being a bit menstrual

cos not only have you got us
chucked off Duke of Edinburgh,

but you've also blown it for me
with a sexy woman.

- And that was my fault, was it?
- Yes, it was.

- How?
- You wanked at an old lady!

And putting a wig down your pants
had nothing to do with it?

- That was a terrible idea, mate.
- That was your idea!

A wig?

- What were you thinking?
- Maybe "What am I going to do?

"My pubes have fallen out cos my friends
got the idea to put hair-remover on it!"

- And it was.
- At least Daisy touched your c*ck.

No. She couldn't get her hand
through the lining.

You still owe me 40 quid
for those two shifts.

I think you may be waiting a while
for that payment.

We shook on it!

Yes, well, we all know what happens
when you shake on things.

They say every defeat
is a victory if you learn from it.

Not this one. It had simply been
a credibility-crushing...

You're a virgin?

... pube-losing,

granny-w*nk*ng royal disaster.

Is Prince Charles
cross with us, sir?