03x04 - The Trip to Warwick

[bunniefuu]

I'd not seen a lot of Simon in the
past few weeks, cos he had a new hobby:

Spending as much time as was humanly
possible munching his girlfriend's face off.

Aye aye, what's going on in here?

What the bloody f*ck do
you think you're doing?!

- Language.
- Coming to check up on you.

Check up on me? What are you,
like the thought Nazis police?

- Hello, Tara.
- Hello, Mrs Cooper.

Jesus Christ, we're just studying.

- Yeah, but you don't do biology.
- Is that supposed to be funny?

We'd like you to stick
to what we agreed, Simon.

We don't mind you having girls up here,
but you've got to leave the door open.

Yeah, so we don't miss
any of the good stuff.

Jesus.

Only kidding, Tara. But seriously,
you do have to keep the door open.

- Yes, fine.
- We'll leave you, then.

Yep, leave you "to it".

Oh, go away, you sad man.

- Simon, what if they come back?
- They won't.

- Shush, they'll hear.
- God, I'm just so horny.

I know you are. Look, it feels like
we've been going out for ages now.

So I've been thinking
that maybe we should, you know,

have sex.

I'm sorry?

I'm ready.
I mean, we love each other, right?

Yeah...

So I was trying to work out where...

where we could be alone,
away from our parents and everyone.

- Down the bottom of the garden?
- What?

There are some bushes, we could do it there.
I'm sure you can't be seen from the house.

Simon, I'm not having sex
in your garden!

- What about in my car?
- No!

I know it's not perfect, but I think
we both need to compromise, yeah? Yeah?

Look, my sister is at Warwick Uni.

It's not too far, and she's always
saying I should go and visit.

I've told her I'm coming up
with you for the weekend.

Right, great. Why?

- So we can have lovely sex together.
- This weekend?

- Yup.
- Lovely.

That will be lovely. The sex.

You do want to make love to me,
don't you?

Yeah.

Well...

tell me, then.

Talk to me to get me in the mood.

I like imagining things.

- Is this like dirty talk?
- Yes, Simon,

- just try it, it's naughty.
- OK.

Well...

I'd like to kiss your boobs.

- Good, see? I like that.
- Good, OK, well...

God, my...

p*nis is really hard for you.

And what are you going to do to me?

I'm going to f*ck your f*cking fanny
off, you twat!

- OK.
- Oh, God.

f*ck off!

Open that door!

Simon had hit the jackpot:

A girl who still wanted to have sex with him
even after getting to know him,

which meant I got to spend some
quality time with Jay and Neil.

Low quality time.

Oi, Neil, did you hear about
Chris Wharton from the paper shop?

No, what?
He was mucking about up the rec,

got his head wedged in the bottle bank.
Got stuck there all night.

By the time someone found him in the morning,
he'd been arse-r*ped 18 times.

Oh, mate, that's grim.

- I have a few questions.
- Like what?

Well, one... why was he sticking
his head in the bottle bank?

- Looking for bottles, you mug.
- OK. Number two...

what you're saying is that the first 18 people
to have discovered him in this state

just happened to be opportunistic
h*m* rapists?

Looks like it. Here, where was
your dad last night, Neil?

- Badminton, why?
- Course he was.

And finally... why, after what was
at best a humiliating evening,

would he, as the victim, tell
anyone, let alone you, about it?

- I used to sit next to him in woodwork.
- Of course!

Well, thanks for clearing that up.
Much as I'm enjoying our morning chats,

- I can't help wishing Simon was around more.
- Who?

Simon.

You can forget about him, mate,
he's probably off with his girlfriend.

- Yeah, as per usual, girlfriend.
- Yeah, he's all like,

"Oh, everyone look at me, I've got a
girlfriend and I love going round her house

and listening to her sh*t music
and laughing at her sh*t jokes

and pretending that she's fit
when she's not that fit."

- Who's not that fit?
- Your mum.

- Nice.
- She isn't, though.

Say what you like, guess who's
getting laid this weekend.

- Dunno. Is it someone famous?
- It's me, Neil.

- Don't say before I've guessed.
- Not really? Really?

- sh*t, that's amazing. With Tara?
- We're going to her sister's house in Warwick.

- It's going to be brilliant.
- This is a big deal,

- a very big deal.
- I know.

You got your plan of action
all sorted? For the shagging.

The what? No. The what?

- Oh, sh*t.
- f*cking hell! Good luck, then.

I don't need a plan.

Oh, mate, you're in serious trouble.
Course you need a plan.

Bloke I knew didn't have a plan
on his first time, went in too quick,

- broke his knob in half.
- Bollocks! You don't need a plan.

- I didn't have a plan with Charlotte.
- Oh, right, and how did that go?

I pogoed on her stomach for five seconds,
she asked me to leave, and I'm still a virgin.

No offence, Will, but I really don't
want any sexual advice from you.

- I have taken some offence.
- It'll be fine, I'll be OK.

- I just need to get some condoms, that's all.
- Oh, for f*ck's sake,

don't wear a johnny.
It's a guaranteed hard on k*ller.

That's why they call it safe sex,
cos you can't get it up.

- That isn't the reason.
- If you have to bag it up,

get her to put it on for you.
You might get a few more seconds of wood.

Really? Does that work?

- Yeah, get her to pop it on with her mouth.
- Oh, mouth's a good idea.

- Or arsehole.
- What?

Sometimes I like to get them to put
it on with their bum. Back into it.

I can't ask her that.
It's her first time too.

It's a bit specialist, but you're going to
have to do something if you want to stay hard.

Oh, God, this is a nightmare!
Should I write this down?

These are the basics, mate.

Me and Neil can come along
and talk you through it,

make sure you don't embarrass yourself.

Really?

What about her minge, Jay?
You never even mentioned that.

We've not even started
on the minge.

Now, the minge has two main parts:
The flaps and the clitty.

What about the hole?

All right, three.
It's mainly all about the clitty.

Oh, God!

Jay's encyclopaedic sex tips
continued all day,

from anilingus
to a zoo keeper he once f*cked.

As we walked home, he had even more
good news for Simon.

Right, I've made a few calls,
moved some stuff around, and got news:

- Me and Neil can come with you to help out.
- That's going to look weird.

It'll look weird when you try and f*ck her in the
ear cos you don't know what you're doing.

And what am I going to tell Tara
when she asks why you're there?

Oh, I don't know. Just tell her we're your mates
and we've known you longer than she has

and to shut her f*cking whining.

And you could mention I've got
a lot of fingering experience.

- Fine. God, all right.
- Nice one.

And then, while you're finally
putting your knob to good use,

me and Neil will be tapping up
the campus clunge.

Won't university be boring, though,
just like a load of Wills?

No! Everyone knows it's where
posh birds go to set their gash free.

- Nice.
- Oh, and Si,

as we're doing you a favour,
I'm not paying petrol money.

- Fine, whatever. I'll pick you up at one.
- Cool, see you tomorrow, then.

Well, you're definitely not coming!

But Warwick is one of my choices, so...

Go to the open day! Don't come with
me when I'm trying to get laid!

All right, look, the truth is

I don't want to be left out.
I get lonely.

Oh, for f*ck's sake, all right,
I'll see you tomorrow, then.

So Simon whisked Tara away
for their romantic weekend,

and it's fair to say it wasn't
exactly as she'd imagined it.

I bet you've never had a boyfriend
with a car this embarrassing, eh, Tara?

Actually, I like Simon's car.

It's so tragic, at least I know
he's not out picking up girls in it.

- Christ, she's done you!
- I've picked up girls before in this.

- No, you haven't.
- Yeah, I have.

Did you make these girls sit in the
back cos your mate called shotgun?

- It's the rules.
- It is the rules, Tara.

Can you slow down
a bit at least, Simon?

OK, Tara. Sorry.

We're only doing f*cking 65.

I get carsick,
especially in the back.

There's no rush.
Let's enjoy the drive.

This is one of the more beautiful
stretches of anonymous British motorway.

- It's not Tara's fault she gets carsick.
- I can speak for myself, Simon.

Jay, shut up!

Something hard's
digging into my leg.

Don't look at me.
Although it could reach from here.

- sh*t, what is this?
- Oh, that's mine.

Why are you taking a four-litre
bottle of orangeade to Warwick?

Polite, being a good guest,
bring a bottle.

- Bring a bottle means alcohol, Neil.
- Nah, everyone likes orangeade.

You make c*ck with it, like...
vodka and orangeade,

or whisky and orangeade,
or wine and orangeade.

Those aren't c*ck. That's just
the names drinks with orangeade added.

- Yeah, well, at least I'm being polite.
- Thank you, Neil,

- I'm sure my sister will appreciate it.
- I know what she wouldn't appreciate...

- Oh, no, Neil, you haven't?
- What?

- Unbelievable.
- Oh, my God, that stinks!

- Neil, have you farted again?
- Not sure. Could be fart, could be worse.

- For f*ck's sake, open a window!
- You need to see a bowel specialist.

Or he could ask his dad.
He likes inspecting men's anuses.

Oh, I feel really ill.
Simon, can you pull over?

Calm down, it was only
a Sausage and Egg McMuffin.

- Oh, there's the hash brown.
- Jesus Christ!

Can someone please open a window?

Fortunately, Neil's McFarts
calmed down just outside Warwick.

Which is more than could be said for Tara.

- They're getting the train back or I am.
- Look, it'll be fine.

- Let's just remember why we're here, yeah?
- I didn't know there'd be so many of you.

- They've just come to hang out, OK?
- Apart from him, he's lonely.

Some of us are going to university
next year, so I thought I'd come along,

check the place out, maybe even
make a few friends in case

worst comes to worst
and I end up at Warwick.

- Meaning?
- Well, just it's not my first choice.

- It's your last choice.
- But it is a choice.

- I think that's the key point.
- I've bought orangeade for the party.

- There isn't a party.
- We could make it a party.

You couldn't. It's bad enough that Joe's idiotic
friends descend on us practically every night.

- Oh, is he still a nightmare?
- God, he's a complete tool,

all he does is drink. I don't know
why we agreed to share with him.

Joe... interesting.
Bit of a social hub is he?

The big man on campus,
the go-to guy?

Christian's away, so I suppose those
three can sleep in his room.

I'll share with Heike, although she's
got the flu. That'll mean me catching it.

- Tara, you and him can have my room.
- Thanks.

I'm not keen on you having sex, but at least
I know you're doing it somewhere comfortable.

Absolutely. Only in her vag*na.

I meant in my bed.

- So did I...?
- Why did you say "vag*na", then?

Come on, Tara, I'll show you where
the condoms and spare sheets are.

Nice to meet you, Sophie.

- Who's Heike?
- Flatmate. Fit, apparently. Dutch.

- Oh, I've never met a Dutch.
- Always the filthiest.

- You know that, do you?
- Yes, I f*cked a Dutch girl.

- Bollocks. Never been to Holland.
- Yeah, I have!

It was the West Ham Under 13s football tour.

And what did she do to you when
you were 12 that was so filthy?

Give you a blow job in a windmill?
Wank you off with clogs?

No, look, it was properly filthy,
I shouldn't tell.

Try us.

All right.

When I fingered her,
she sh*t down my arm.

- Shall we go and look where we're sleeping?
- Yeah.

And to think, I used
to associate Holland with tulips.

We'd only travelled
as far as Warwick University,

but Sophie's flatmate, Joe, and his friends
seemed to speak a different language.

- Good evening, Commander, Bombardier.
- Good evening, Admiral!

All right, Soph, where's this
little sister of yours, then?

She's upstairs, with her boyfriend.

- Boyfriend! Denied!
- Denied!

Denied. Come in, gentlemen,
and we'll commence.

Don't break anything.

All right, speccy?

An insulting nickname.
I think it meant they liked me.

Meanwhile, it was a good job Jay and
Neil had their sleeves rolled down,

cos there was a Dutch girl on the loose.

- Hello!
- Well, hello there.

You are Sophie's sister's friends?

- Yeah.
- OK, very welcome.

I have a f*cking cold, so I am
looking for the bloody tissues.

- Bless you.
- Thanks you.

There are the bloody things.
See you, guys, have a super fun night.

Oh, we will have a super fun night.
Most definitely.

Great.

Yep.

Bye to you.

- f*cking hell, she's fit.
- Yeah. She looks like she loves c*ck.

Do you have to do it different
with a Dutch bird?

There's three things you need
to know about European birds, Neil.

They're filthy, they're hairy

and they don't mind
if you wipe it on the curtains.

I'd always imagined my evenings
at uni would consist of study,

heated intellectual debate and
avoiding elderly h*m* lecturers.

The reality at Warwick
was a little different.

The next game is fuzzy duck.
Duckmaster General, to my left, fuzzy duck.

- Fuzzy duck.
- Does he?

Fuzzy duck?

Drink.

Hey, fellas, you don't mind
if I join you, do you?

- Question!
- Two fingers.

What? What does two fingers mean?

Two fingers of what, this?

- Pointing. A fine, Admiral?
- And the fine is...

- Are you OK?
- Down it!

All right. But after that,
can we talk normally for a bit?

Questions! Questions!
Down it! Down it!

Fine. I was going to drink it anyway,
for f*ck's sake.

Down it!
Get it down you, Zulu warrior!

- Get it down you, Zulu chief!
- What? Zulu? Why Zulu?

- All right, what's going on?
- Question! Down it!

- I honestly have no idea.
- Can I play?

Questions!

It seems like a vaguely
r*cist moronic drinking game.

But as these guys were students,
I assumed it was irony.

In the kitchen,
nothing ironic was happening.

- Not in the kitchen, please. I eat in here.
- Hi, Sophie, hi.

- Tara, did you find those towels to put down?
- Yep.

- And the flannel?
- Yeah.

Well, just remember, it's when you're ready,
not when he's ready, OK?

It doesn't have to be tonight and it certainly
doesn't have to be in the kitchen.

So what is it you're studying,
Sophie?

Look, you probably won't enjoy it, but
just make sure you don't regret it, OK?

- English, was it?
- Jesus, give it a rest, please.

Look, I'm only saying these things
because I love you, yeah?

- Yeah, I know, but Simon loves me too.
- Does he?

- I should go and check on the others.
- No, don't worry, I'm going.

Bye, Sophie! Great to chat!

I think she really likes you!

- She seems like she hates me.
- No, she's probably just jealous.

- Really?
- Yeah, cos I've got you.

Let's not wait any longer,
let's go to bed.

Great. I just need to run that
by Jay and Neil quickly first.

Oh, what? Are you going to
ask them for their advice?

- Oh, sh*t, did Jay tell you?
- I was joking!

Me too...? I do need to talk
to them about dinner, though.

- Jay gets grumpy if he doesn't eat.
- I don't give a f*ck!

Look, why don't you go upstairs
and get yourself ready,

and I'll tell them there's some
stuff in the fridge, yeah?

- Those guys are mental.
- They're mentally ill.

- Do they even speak English?
- You're just f*cked off

because we fit in with uni blokes because we're
a laugh and you don't because you're a twat.

- I love it. I think I'll to go to uni now.
- I wouldn't bank on it, Neil.

Good times. Anyway, Jay,
I just wanted to talk about dinner.

- What, the fish supper you're having?
- Simon, are you coming?

Yeah, one minute,
I just need to sort this out.

God! Fine!

If she f*ck like she complains,
you're in for a treat.

Oh, my God, is this it, then, Si?
Are you going to do it right now?

Listen, I need your advice. You know you
said I'd have a problem getting it up?

I've got the exact opposite problem,
it won't go down. If she touches it,

I'm sure it'll go off, straight away.
What am I going to do?

Just be yourself, be honest with her.

- Worst advice ever.
- Jay, help me.

Look, it's simples. Go and
have a quick tactical wank now,

then when she puts some clunge round
it, you'll be able to go for hours.

- Right, good idea.
- Is it?!

Yes. Now get up there, knock one out,
start on her and don't embarrass yourself.

Yeah, try to forget about how this
is the biggest moment of your life.

Thanks.

So Simon chose Jay's advice over mine

and as a result was
now masturbating into a sink

whilst inhaling
his girlfriend's sister's knickers.

Simey, come on. Come to bed.

Coming, I'm just... doing a poo.

OK.

Wash your hands, then.

Yeah.

Downstairs, after only
a couple of hours in their company,

I was already hoping the Commander,
the Bombardier and the Admiral

- would get sent to Afghanistan.
- Oi, Neil, dare you to down this?

- Oh, what, no way.
- Go on!

- Oh, all right, then.
- You don't have to bow to peer pressure, Neil.

Your mate is f*cking boring, isn't he?

Yep.

No, Neil, don't! It's disgusting!

It's got f*g butts in it!

Yes!

Oh, yes, cheer that.
Because that was so impressive.

What would you like for an encore,
Jay to punch himself in the face?

Go on, Jay.

- You're boring, mate.
- No, no, I'm not.

- You are a bit boring.
- What, because I don't do dares?

It takes no time or effort or skill
to down half a bottle of orangeade.

- Takes ba*ls, though.
- Yep.

Well, I've got ba*ls. More than you.

More than two?

Go on, then, do a dare.

- He won't, he's boring.
- So what, if I eat...

this bonsai tree, I automatically
become fun and interesting, do I?

- Yes.
- Fine!

Well, I'll eat it, then,
and we'll see.

- Go on, then.
- I will.

Unfortunately, it turns out
bonsai doesn't mean

"delicious little tree" in Japanese.

Upstairs, Simon was striving
to get some wood of his own.

It is cold in here, isn't it?
Like, really cold.

Cuddle up tighter, then.

Does your sister ever turn
the heating on in here?

Your sex talk is getting worse, Simon.

Right. Is there a draught as well?

Look, she's a student, it's expensive, OK? Do you
want to go and talk to her about gas prices?

- No.
- Good.

- Are you going to take your top off?
- I'm cold too, you know.

Of course, sure, we established.

- Get the condom on, then.
- Yeah,

I meant to say about that,
could you put it on me? It's sexier.

OK, if you want.

Are you ready?

It doesn't look ready.

No, I'm fine. I just think it would
help my, y'know, readiness a bit

- if you put it on with your mouth.
- With my mouth?

Or bum.

Or bum.

Those two little words every girl
dreams of hearing on her first time.

Downstairs, I was
halfway through dinner.

Guys, I'm going to bed, so can you
try and keep it down, yeah?

- What are you doing?
- Question! Two fingers.

I'm sorry! I was trying
to satirise their bravado.

If you think about it, it worked.

- You ate a bonsai tree.
- Yes, but...

I think you should go to bed,
and you lot should leave.

Yeah, fine, we're going
to the union anyway.

Nice one, Specs,
thanks for ruining the evening.

Oh, Jay, remember what we
told you about Heike, yeah?

- Where do you think you're going?
- Bed.

Not without them, you're not.
Oh, and if you fancy a midnight snack,

there's a spider plant
in the bathroom.

This has been
the best night of my life.

So, while Neil got emotional about
drinking orangeade and f*g butts,

Tara was also doing her best to get
something disgusting in her mouth:

Simon's flaccid p*nis.

I can't put it on at all
when it's like that!

- Is it nerves?
- Look, just stop talking about it, hmm?

It's not helping. Just get it on.

- It's not working, it's too soft!
- One more time, please.

God, OK. Just don't push
my head down so hard, yeah?

Sorry.

Are you OK?

Simon, it's just not doing anything!

Oh, God, why won't it start?

I do think if I could see
your boobs it would help.

Unlike Simon, I could see n*pples.
Unfortunately, they were hairy

and attached to a dickhead
who would not shut up.

I know Heike wants a f*ck.

The way she looked at me
after she sneezed.

Sleepy times now.

I've got young meat. That's what
she likes. The boys said.

The Commander said she loves a f*ck.

Fine. Great. Why don't you
just go and ask her, then?

Get out of the bedroom, let me sleep

and ask her for the f*ck
she so famously wants.

All right, I will.

No, Jay, come on, I wasn't serious.

I'm going to get my Dutch f*ck.

Fine, fine, off you go. I'm sick
of babysitting you twats anyway.

Oh, God! No! Neil!

Neil! Wake the f*ck up,
you've pissed the bed!

- Oh, no!
- Stop it! Stop pissing!

I've got a problem with that!

Go to the loo, then! Oh, God,
Sophie's going to go mental!

- Why's it so green?
- My head hurts.

Yes, I'll suspend my sympathy
as I'm covered in your piss.

- It's good for you.
- Oh, right, I'll piss on you then, shall I?

Get the f*ck to the toilet.

It smells like pissy Sugar Puffs.

I'm a mess.
Which one's the bathroom?

More worryingly, where's Jay?

Oh, there he is.

Come on, Heike, just give me
a little f*ck, I know you want to.

Get out. You've got ten seconds
to get out of the house.

Don't worry! I've got enough
young meat for you both.

Get f*cking out!

So while Jay had to get out,
Simon couldn't get in.

- Simon, Simon. Nothing's happening.
- I know,

do you think I don't f*cking know that? I know
that better than anyone. I know it's floppy.

- Sorry! I was just saying.
- Well, don't just say, OK?

I know better than anyone
that my p*nis isn't f*cking working.

It's OK.
It's not f*cking OK! It's not OK!

Why won't you start?! Every time
I don't want one, it's there,

and yet the one time
I actually need it. Nothing!

- OK, you're scaring me now.
- Just work, you stupid f*cking thing.

Get big!

- Get big!
- Simon!

Why aren't you doing it?! Do it!

Get big!

Oh, please just work,
you ugly c**t!

Simon, stop it!

Oh, my God,
have you pissed in my house?!

Look, none of this is ideal,
I am aware of that.

You are disgusting! Disgusting!

Oh, my God, the smell, the mess!

Sophie, Sophie, he's gone weird
just like you said he would.

Yes! Tara, Tara, Tara,
look, I've almost got it!

Oh, hi, everyone.

If you don't get out of my house right now,
I'm going to call the police. Get out!

All right, this isn't perfect, sure,
but let's be reasonable,

none of us have any clothes on.

Are we having this three-way or what?

OK, OK. We're going.

No, we weren't going to
have a three-way,

we were going to spend the night in Simon's
car naked and then when we'd sobered up,

drive home at stupid o'clock
the next morning.

- Didn't Tara want a lift back, then, Si?
- I think she's OK, Neil.

And I forgot to thank you all for the advice,
by the way, it went perfectly.

- I'm so glad you lot came along.
- What exactly did you do to her, then, Si?

Nothing.
I think that was the problem.

Get that, Will?

It's Tara.

Oh, cool.

- She says never contact her again.
- Cool.

I'd been inspired by my trip to Warwick.
Inspired to get the best grades

I possibly could so I didn't end up
at uni with Jay and Neil.

But one good thing
came out of the weekend:

Tara dumping Simon
meant I got my friend back.

My silver-tongued...

f*ck your f*cking fanny off, you twat!

...slightly weird...

...and still a virgin friend.