02x04 - A Night Out in London

[bunniefuu]

In case you're interested,
at my old school the day began

with prayers, followed by hymns
and then an inspirational reading.

Here it began with Jay,
showing me a pornographic video.

Watch this.

This is tame. They're not even naked.
Wait a minute, is she gonna...?

Oh, my God, that can't be real.

- It's chocolate?
- They should've got a bigger cup.

- How tame is that, then?!
- Oh, Christ, I'm gonna heave.

Jesus wept! Don't lick it!

- She's gonna vomit.
- Me too.

This is the best bit, look.

- Is it possible to un-see things?
- I don't like girls anymore.

The first thing you did was find that
with your new laptop?

No, it wasn't the first thing.
This was the first thing.

You lot are such saddos.

- Enough, we can't carry on like this!
- Carry on like what?

We can't spend another term treading
water, being the same old sad cases.

- Well, I'm not a sad case.
- You just got called a sad case!

- Look, we've got to do something.
- What do you mean?

Carpe diem!

- Go fishing?
- Seize the day, be unexpected.

Reinvent ourselves, show the girls
and everyone else who we really are.

- Reinvent ourselves as what?
- I don't know!

Literally anything! Something cool.

We could...
Start going clubbing in London.

- My dad wouldn't let me drive so far.
- That's the spirit!

I could drive us.
I got a car last weekend.

You've got a car?
You haven't even passed your test.

- Yes, I have.
- You never thought to mention it?

- You never asked.
- Of course, I forgot how it works.

We have to ask you every single thing
that might have happened in case it did.

This is brilliant.
Now we don't have to drive around

- in Simon's little b*tch mobile.
- No more lifts for you.

What about that, Si?
If you don't have to drive, you come?

It's not the driving.
It's more that we won't get in anywhere,

won't get served
and might get robbed, stabbed or k*lled.

Bullshit!

I go up to London all the time.

- When do you ever go to London?
- All the time!

I went last weekend,
I f*cked some girl up there.

Did you? Where was that, then?

- It was in... The Tower of London.
- The Tower of London?

What did you do after you'd f*cked her,
cut her head off?

- Showed her the crown jewels?
- She'd already seen the crown jewels

- my bell-end.
- Brilliant.

Reinventing ourselves as clubbers
was a brilliant idea of mine.

Obviously, we wouldn't get in anywhere,
but Simon could at least give it a go.

- Go on, Si, please come along.
- But it'll be expensive.

Don't some of those clubs
charge 30 quid to get in?

I've already told you, I know the bloke
who runs all the doors.

He'll slip us in.

And when that turns out
to be bullshit, what then?

- Hi, Simon!
- Carli!

How's your stomach?

Fine.

Simon had really bad
diarrhoea over the weekend.

Really bad.

We're going up to London on Saturday,
clubbing. Do you want to come?

Sounds fun, we'd love to go.
Which club are you going to?

- Spearmint Rhino.
- Isn't that a strip club?

It's a mistake.
We're going to one of the big ones,

one of the big cool ones
in the downtown.

Right, which one?

- The Land of...
- The Sound of...

- We usually go to the Astoria.
- And that's exactly where we're going.

- Cool.
- I'm driving if you want a lift.

Nah, we'll probably head up early,
check out the shops.

- A lift back would be great, though.
- No problemo.

- So, do you go clubbing a lot, then?
- Me?

Yeah, you.

Yeah, yeah, course.
Dancing on the podium probably,

or up by the speakers, where it's,
if anything, too loud!

- Great. See you there.
- See you.

Great. See you later, then.

What did I tell you?
London and muff go hand in hand.

f*cking hell,
I'm going on a date with Carli!

- It's not really a date.
- I think it is.

- I reckon you're in there, too.
- Me?

- Why do you think that?
- Cos she touched her hair!

In body language speak,
that means she wants you.

Well, Saturday night,

there will be plenty of girls round me
touching their hair.

- Their pubic hair, presumably?
- No,

their...

long...

No, yeah, their pubic hair.

Saturday rolled around,

and we were all incredibly excited
about our night out in London.

Rachel, an actual girl with a working
face, had asked me if I was going,

Simon got to continue
his stalking of Carli,

Neil just liked being out
in the open, like a Labrador,

and Jay was up for some make-believe
sex in a tourist attraction,

maybe a hand-job at Madame Tussauds.

I had no idea
how we'd actually get into a club,

but I wasn't taking any chances
and wore my smartest shoes,

something Simon didn't do.

- Trainers, really?
- They look good.

I specifically said no trainers,
not if we want to get into clubs.

- Everyone wears trainers.
- Jay hasn't got trainers on,

I haven't got trainers on.

You've got f*cking flippers on!
What size are they?

Size eight, my size.

Yeah, Ronald McDonald called,
he wants his shoes back.

There's nothing wrong with these,
they're Italian.

Hey! Where are my-a flippers?

- If you fall in the Thames, you're OK.
- Very funny!

Would it have k*lled you
to wear shoes to be on the safe side?

Check out Neil's car!

Yeah! It's sh*t-hot!

I'd say half-right. It's sh*t.

But a rubbish red Nova wasn't
the main attraction at Neil's house.

Hi, Katie!

- He's upstairs.
- So how's things with you?

Yeah! I feel like
I haven't seen you in ages.

Neil! Your friends want to know
if you're coming out to play.

- Coming!
- Katie, do you like clubbing?

Can you stop staring at my t*ts,
please?

- She must be on the blob.
- All right?

- What do you think of the car, then?
- It's like a tractor beam for fanny.

I love it!

It's got a Piper exhaust
and a well smart body-kit.

My sister's boyfriend is helping me,
he's a mechanic.

Your dad must like
to have a man in the house.

- What?
- It means,

- "Does your dad suck him off?"
- No!

- But your sister does.
- No!

- Well, I mean, she might do.
- She definitely does.

Nice, Porsche Engineering sticker.

I know. I put that on myself,
it's gotta be worth at least a hand-job.

How fast does it go?

- Who knows? I ain't got it going yet.
- You've never drive it?

Nah, it don't work,
it ain't got an engine.

- Dave's still trying to find me one.
- You said you could drive us.

Yeah, so did I.

So how do you plan to drive us up there
without a car?

- I thought I could drive your car.
- But you're not insured with my car.

- Yeah, I wondered about that.
- Oh, well,

- Simon, you're gonna have to drive us.
- No! I said no,

and my dad will go mental
if he knows that.

He won't find out.

And even if he does, you'll have far
too many fingers up Carli to care.

Please?

- Christ, thanks a lot, Neil!
- You need to be clearer about things.

OK, is this clear enough?
You're a f*cking idiot!

Calm down!
I'll get some beers for the trip.

- I can't drink and drive!
- Course you can, it's just a saying!

So Jay liberated a few of his
dad's lagers and we were off.

The plan was simple:
get to London, get into a club,

pull Carli and Rachel and then
return to school on Monday

to find our credibility
at an all-time high.

I said it was simple, not realistic.

Meanwhile, we can enjoy
the enlightening conversation.

Here, who would you rather f*ck,
Will's mum or Neil's sister?

- Good!
- Leave it out!

- Will's mum.
- Don't join in, Neil!

Neil's sister would have
the tighter snatch.

- Leave it out!
- But Will's mum has got huge t*ts.

- They are amazing.
- Thanks, Neil.

But Neil's sister seems
to be better at sucking d*ck.

- Like father like daughter.
- Yes,

I could see her going at it
like a dog eating hot chips.

Shut up!

- I'd like to put my c*ck in them both.
- That's a touching sentiment.

- I'd touch your mum's sentiment.
- That means nothing.

It means I'd touch her bum-hole,
with my c*ck.

Nice one!

I've thought about it,
and I'd rather f*ck Will's mum.

Are you sure?
What about your sister's tight snatch?

- No, totally sure.
- Well, that's good, then.

Slow down a minute, Si.

Bus wankers!

Where did that come from?
Bus wankers!

I dunno, it just felt right!

You could see their little faces
drop as they thought,

"We must be the bus wankers."

- Pull over, Si. I need a piss.
- I can't pull over, there's a bus lane.

Please, I'm desperate.

Just hold it, we're late enough.

What are you doing?

- Are you pissing in my car?
- Nah.

- What's that noise, then?
- I'm pissing in a can.

What the f*ck!
You'll get piss on the floor!

Don't worry, it won't overflow.
I've got me chap's-eye right in there,

so I can't miss. No problemo.

It stinks, Neil!

- It don't wanna stop.
- What is the "it"?

- Just stop pissing yourself, Neil!
- Quick, pass me another can!

No way.

It's filled up to the top,
I've got to get it out!

sh*t!

My helmet!

I've cut it on the can!
I think it's bleeding!

f*ck bleeding! Is it still pissing?

- It stings!
- Does anybody want to swap seats?

- I will!
- Not you!

Get rid of it!

So high on the smell of Neil's urine, we
headed for the bright lights of London.

Look out, ladies,
phase one was complete.

We had finally made it to London.

And we even managed to
see all the sights...

Because Simon got us
totally f*cking lost.

- It must be somewhere round here.
- I knew we'd get lost.

- Thanks a lot, Neil.
- Is it my fault you're a sh*t driver?

- Carli will be mad if I'm late.
- You need to grow some ba*ls, I reckon.

Why not pull over and ask someone
where the club full of clunge is?

I've got google maps on my phone!

Should be able to find it,
no problemo!

Neil, you have to stop...

- No, Jay! Because...
- Go on.

Bus wankers!

- Why are you slowing down?
- I tried to say!

- Oh, Christ, Jay!
- Oh sh*t!

No, they're coming! sh*t! Drive!

Where?!
Where am I meant to drive to?!

- Anywhere!
- Oh, sh*t!

Anywhere...

But the pavement.

Listen...

Sorry, I'm sorry.
I'm really sorry, I...

Who's a w*nk*r?
I'm a w*nk*r, am I? Yeah?

- I'm sorry, I'm sorry...
- Yeah? Yeah?

- He said he was sorry.
- I'm a w*nk*r, yeah?

I'm really sorry...

I'm sorry.

Sorry...

I'd rather be a bus w*nk*r than
drive that piece of yellow sh*t!

f*cking hell,
you two sh*t yourselves.

What?!

"Sorry, sorry!"

- "I'm sorry, don't hurt me, sorry."
- You got me f*cking throttled!

- "Sorry!"
- f*ck off!

- "Sorry I'm on the pavement."
- "Sorry, sorry for my little sh*t car."

"I'm sorry I'm alive and a bender!"

Just f*ck off!

Sorry, Si.

- "Sorry I'm such a tit!"
- "Sorry, I've done a poo in my pants!"

"Sorry my neck is stuck
in your hand."

Simon's a good friend, but it's
fair to say he drives like a ret*rd.

But eventually, in Chinatown,
just a few hundred yards from the club,

we found the perfect parking space.

Well, almost perfect.

- I don't think I can park here.
- We've been driving round for an hour

looking for a space.
This one's perfect, let's just be cool!

- But it says we'll get clamped.
- It's a weekend, different rules.

I'm sure he's right, Si,
and no-one clamps any more.

Please can we get going?
I really need to check my nob.

- I think I've got a big problemo.
- Can you stop saying problemo?

- What?
- It's not cool

or funny, it's just embarrassing.

Don't worry, Neil,
he'll say sorry in a minute.

- Maybe I should move it?
- Simon, listen to me.

Carli has agreed to go clubbing
with you, that's a big step forward,

but during the time to find a space
she could have gone off the idea.

Yes, she could be w*nk*ng off
the DJ by now.

I doubt that's happening,
but the point is valid.

This is a great parking spot,
let's just get a move on.

We are wasting valuable boning time.

Fine. Fine, come on, then.

Don't bother locking it, Si.

- If you're lucky, a guy might nick it!
- Yeah, good one...

So despite the odd throttling
and cut p*nis,

we made it to the club safely, and
the girls even seemed pleased to see us!

Hi Simon. I wondered where you were.

Did you? You're actually here.

- Yes.
- You weren't lying about coming, then?

- No. Why would I be lying?
- Don't know.

Don't know why I said that.

- Great, well we'll see you in there?
- Don't be a tit, just...

Stand here!

- Are you joining us?
- Yeah.

Yeah, I think so.

Are you f*cking pushing in?

Those arseholes pushed in!

So, great you're near the front.

- Yeah, well, been here long enough.
- Suppose you have.

- I just wanna get inside and dance now.
- Yes, me too.

There's something very animalistic
about our need to dance.

- Those lads are throwing stuff at you.
- Don't think so.

They're frustrated cos they want
to get inside too. They're saying,

"Let us in, we've got bloody great
dancing ants in our pants!"

Get to the back of the
queue, you four eyed prick!

It's OK if I stand with my back to you?
I don't want they think you're with me.

No, that's fine.

Rachel had the most beautiful
back of a head I'd ever seen.

Now all we had to do
was get into the club.

- No trainers.
- What?!

No trainers.

- But they're new.
- No trainers.

I'll see you in there in a minute.

That's us f*cked.

I take it you don't know
that bouncer, then, Jay?

What's this got to do with me?
I'm not the one wearing trainers?

You f*cking idiot!
I am totally in there...

Like totally.

- You couldn't just wear shoes?
- We could make a pair out of yours,

- and keep leather left to cover a sofa.
- Doesn't matter anyway, I've sorted it.

- I'm gonna borrow some shoes.
- What?

Hammerhead shark!

No!

Look, I'm gonna level with you.
I am scared. London scares me.

The bouncer scares me
and that man...

Really scares me.
Let's just put this one down

as another character forming
experience and go home.

Come on, Will! It's for Carli!
She'll love it, it's romantic.

It's not quite Romeo and Juliet.

These are tr*mp shoes
we're talking about.

Scuse me?

Mate? Scuse me?

Can I borrow your shoes?

I wanna borrow your shoes,
I'm trying to impress a girl.

- Giz a blow job.
- What?

- I'll give you a blow job.
- No.

God, no, no blow jobs.
I just want your shoes.

All right!

- £20 quid!
- Great.

And your shoes.

Of course.

Good old Simon. I can always rely on him
to add a touch of class to proceedings.

In many ways, though,
it proved how much he valued Carli.

Certainly more than
he valued his dignity.

- They're a bit wet.
- That'll be my piss.

OK.

Thanks.

I'm not saying it was a dodgy club,

but you have to question a door policy
which says no to trainers

but a big thumbs up
to piss-soaked tr*mp shoes.

But we were in! We had got in!

Yes! In the club! An actual club!

Yes!

I've died and gone to clunge heaven.

Nice!

Well, this is what we wanted.

This is it, the first day
of the rest of our lives.

It's one small step for a man,
one giant leap for your flippers.

You won't be laughing
when we pull Carli and Rachel.

No I won't,
cos it ain't gonna happen.

You can spend your evening
talking to little girls,

me and Neil are gonna find ourselves
some women with experienced snatches.

Good luck.
Just one thing,

I think the Tower of London
is closed now.

There she is. How do I look?

You look good.
From the ankles up, obviously.

Obviously. Where's Rachel?

Don't worry, she's keen, I'm sure
she'll find me. Away you go, mate.

Wish me luck.

Simon, you got in!
I thought you were turned away.

Will was being a d*ck with the bouncers
and there was a thing with my shoes.

They're out of ice.
Can you believe that?

Simon, this is Adam.
He's a mate of Rachel's.

- All right!
- Yeah, you?

Simon is an old friend
of the family.

Not just that, though.

Can you smell piss?

Yes. That's totally rank.

Must be the toilets. We should move.

Yeah, good idea.

Meanwhile, Jay and Neil headed to
discuss the nuances of sexual politics.

- She'd definitely get it!
- Most definitely.

- Her? I think she looked over.
- Nice body, frightening face.

You'd have to do her from behind.

- What about her?
- Bit big,

but then fat girls
are more grateful.

Check out the jubblies on that!

She'd get it. Until it fell off.

- Please don't.
- Please do.

No, she's given me a b*ner,
my cut's hurting worse than ever.

- I've gotta go and check it out.
- All right, but

I might not be here
when you get back.

That one's giving me the old,
"I'm gonna milk your ba*ls dry" look.

And in the toilets, Neil had
a very big problemo with his c*ck.

I had my own difficulties
in the c*ck department.

Rachel was sitting next to one.

Rachel!
There you are, found you!

Ready to put on your dancing shoes?
I know I am!

Good!

- Hi, I'm Will.
- Dean.

So,

- you come here often?
- You say that to all the girls?

He's got some chutzpah, that's fine.
Anyway, nice to meet you, but we're off.

What?! I'm good here, thanks.

Come on. It's getting a bit
crowded round here, eh Dean?

Sorry, mate?

Come on, mate.
You've had a good run.

Believe me, if I was in your shoes and I
saw a gorgeous girl sitting on her own,

I'd have made the move,
but I'm here now, so...

- So what?
- So do the right thing and step aside,

- because I was in with her first.
- No, you weren't.

Is he for real? He talks like
he's from a black and white film.

- I was. I stood with you in the queue.
- Behind me.

Well, more beside you.

And you asked me if I was coming
along tonight. I've got witnesses.

Will, I think you've got
the wrong end of the stick.

Evidently! So is that it?!
So shall I just...

- Go away and leave you to it?
- Yes. Go away.

Fine!

Fine! That's the last you see of me.

Thanks, Dean. Thanks a lot, mate.

I was starting to go off Rachel.
She wasn't really my type.

Elsewhere,
my friends were faring no better.

- I can still smell it.
- It's following us.

Simon, I'm not being rude,
but I think that smell might be you.

- Right. These shoes do kick up a bit.
- Jesus, what the f*ck is on your feet?

These aren't my shoes.
I had to borrow them to get in.

- Who brings spare shoes to a nightclub?
- No-one.

- I swapped them with a guy outside.
- He was a tr*mp?

I think you're supposed
to say homeless now.

Sorry,
you're wearing a tr*mp's shoes?

- Mate, that is weird.
- Yeah.

Maybe.

- What's taking so f*cking long?
- Mate, it's not good.

- Get us bog roll, it's bleeding, look.
- Jesus, put it away, Neil.

I can't. It stings
when it rubs on my pants.

- Take your pants off then.
- Then it'll rub on my jeans.

No matter what your old man says,
you can't walk round London naked.

What?! I didn't do nothing.
I wasn't doing anything.

So she didn't see the romantic intention
behind the tr*mp shoes?

Not right now, but if that prick hadn't
been there it would've been different.

To be fair, the smell is appalling.

- What happened with Rachel?
- The usual.

It was going well, then she realised
I'm a dickhead and she pulled other guy.

Right.

- It's sh*t here, isn't it?
- Yeah. Shall we go?

- Yeah.
- No, wait!

I wasn't w*nk*ng.

- Great.
- My c*ck's cut. My c*ck is cut!

So we were chucked out,
out the club.

The actual club chucked us out,
exactly 25 minutes after it started,

our life as cool London clubbers
was over.

So, what happened?

I don't know. I was just looking
at the cut on my c*ck.

- Jay was helping me out.
- Sorry.

- Jay was helping you out?
- It's not like it sounds.

Cos it sounds like you were
watching Neil wank in the toilets.

I wasn't w*nk*ng,
I was just rolling it round in my hands.

All right, spare us the details.

Oh, f*ck. What if Carli's
getting off with that bloke?

Don't cry, Si. At least you
can get your trainers back.

What?

f*cking beauty.
I'll have that, you b*stard.

Brilliant.

- How have you done that?
- What?

- You've had them an hour.
- Maybe he's been out?

- Technically, he's always out.
- Right. Let's go. I've had enough.

Be sober in an alleyway
stinking of piss

and wearing a tr*mp's shoes was not
what I had planned for this evening.

Out of interest, you think it would go
better or worse than this?

So the night was over,

and all we wanted to do now was get
back in Simon's sh*t car and go home.

f*ck.

f*ck, f*ck, f*ck.

sh*t.

- How much money have we got between us?
- No, you chose to park here.

f*cking hell, Jay.

Sorry. I don't have any money left.
Getting in cleaned me out.

- I think you'll have to call your Dad.
- It's one in the morning.

He's going to go f*cking mental.

- I told him I was staying at Neil's.
- Unlock it, Si. I'm freezing.

He loves you. He'd rather come
and get you than see you suffer.

Dad, it's Simon.

Don't panic, nothing's wrong.
Just calm down.

No, I'm not dead. If I'm dead,
how could I be talking to you?

You owe me £200.

- I'll call you back.
- Sir, as I am sure you're aware,

private clamping is ill*gal.
And it is a weekend...

I couldn't get my f*cking van out.

- I've just called my Dad and he'll...
- I couldn't give a f*ck.

£200... now!

- I don't have it!
- We don't have it!

I want £200!

Can't you f*cking read?
No f*cking parking!

I missed all my f*cking deliveries.

Give me my f*cking money now.
I'm gonna f*cking k*ll you

- unless you give me my f*cking money?
- Do you still want that lift?

No. I'm fine, thanks.

Great.
See you Monday.

I'm gonna f*cking k*ll you unless
you give me my f*cking money.

So we had successfully
reinvented ourselves,

but not as the boys
who go clubbing. No.

We were now the boys
who freaked out girls...

Can you stop staring at my t*ts?

- ... apologised a lot...
- Sorry, I'm really sorry.

... wore tr*mp's shoes
and wanked in public toilets.

My c*ck is cut!

- I think you've got a big problemo.
- Please just shut up, Neil.

Maybe you should try
saying sorry over and over.

- "Sorry for parking like a nob."
- Just f*ck off!