Destination: Dewsbury (2018) Script

I know what you're thinking.

"The A Team's let themselves go a bit, haven't they?"

Should catch something in a bit, guys!

That's Gaz.

Not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

Why you making it sound like fishing for?

Well, I guess it is.

It's nothing like fishing.

Nothing at all.

And this is Smithy.

Not so much the muscle, more the very, very fat.

Couldn't we try and, you know, wake him up?

This is Adam.

He's just overdosed on some pills he found.

Adam!

Adam!

Adam, Adam, Adam, Adam, Adam, Adam, Adam, Adam, Adam, Adam,

Adam, Adam, Adam, Adam, Adam, Adam, Adam, Adam, Adam!

And me.

Hitchhiking at the side of a road on a one-way adventure to divorce and unrealized potential.

No, I don't think he wants to.

Oh, I think I've got a bite!

You going anywhere near Dewsbury?

What?

Dewsbury.

None of this makes any sense to you.

Of course it doesn't.

I'd be worried if it did.

Let's go backwards for a moment.

It should all make sense then.

Ah, the '80s.

A different time.

The hair was massive.

The clothes were either too big or just not there at all.

Freddos cost only two P.

Two pence!

Now, you got to sell your lung to afford a Freddo.

And in a mostly failing school in North London, five friends were out to the show the world, in a small and ultimately unsuccessful way, that we were a little bit cooler than everyone actually thought we were.

I'm really not okay with this.

That's me.

Peter, the brains.

Also the wet flannel, but mostly the brains.

Stop being such a tampon.

Please, can't we just do something else?

Shh!

Bit noisy.

Ready?

That's Adam.

Adam stapled a kid's ear to the table once for saying his mum lived in a caravan.

Well, another school year is at an end.

That's Mr. Frazer.

He did used to live in a caravan.

Are well deserved.

Aw, what have you done now?!

Frankie.

Without him, none of us would have met.

He was like the glue, if glue had long hair and a curious obsession with Cyndi Lauper.

Did you do that on purpose?!

Look all you've done!

You poured those on purpose!

There's Gaz.

He panics in maths when he runs out of fingers.

Oh, no!

What have you done now, hey?

Give me that!

This year has also seen the celebration of our centenary.

Look at you, look at the mess you've made.

I'm a prefect, what if I get caught?

What's your name? Gaz.

Off you go.

That's right, and what's your name?

Ow!

Oh, my God!

Chauncey's distracted.

I'm gonna go on the lookout.

Got it? Got it.

And Smithy.

The loveliest bloke you'll ever meet.

The only time he got in trouble was when stole a four pack of eclairs from the corner shop.

I don't know what I should do, though.

Look, as long as they remember it, then it doesn't matter.

To further mark this 100th year, we've had a commemorative bust cast.

That will be on display in the school library.

Hey, what is his name?!

Just look at the mess you've made!

Hi Adam!

That's Neville.

Oh, hey.

What you up to? Huh?

Can I come? What?

He's not involved in this.

Brilliant.

See you later, then.

You are bonkers, all of you!

You're bonkers!

Hey?

You're driving me mad!

And you!

Just get out of this hallway! Sorry.

Just get out of here, hey?!

So, what are we doing this weekend, then?

Stacey Puller's having a house party.

Brilliant.

Everyone going? Yeah, if I can pull out of your mum for a couple of hours.

Come on, son!

All right, lads!

Why are you wearing that?

What have I done?

I'm only popping out.

Come on!

See you later, boys.

Turn that shit off!

All right.

You coming?

Are you mad, fam?!

You prick, bruv!

You're lucky I don't call my brother down here to come and stab you up!

Ah, the 21st century.

Russia is still the aggressive drunk at the party, the government's fucking up all over the place, everybody's poor, and Madonna is making everyone feel uncomfortable.

Pagan!

Remember.

So, mocks tomorrow.

See you all then.


It's funny how things turn out.

Oxford turned out to be Southend College, and four brilliant years of education and life lessons turned out to be three years of fucking torment.

Party politics turned into event management, and any hope of any success turned into a decade of teaching grunting teenagers in the same school that I spent five years itching to leave.

It's funny how things turn out.

Absolutely fucking hilarious.

Mr. Hudders.

Sorry. Sorry, everyone.

Rough morning?

Um. No.

Jazz again.

She's so spirited.

Everyone okay?

Mrs. Saxon.

Ah, yes-- Oh, sorry, just before I forget, we should discuss history term project--

No!

There is an agenda!

An agenda, I'm sorry to say, Peter, that was written out before you arrived.

You simply can't bully your way in here--

Bully? And demand that things that you want to be discussed be put at the top of the Things To Be Discussed List!

Sorry?

Next on the agenda is the end of term assembly tomorrow afternoon.

Would anyone like to make a little speech?

I'm out. Peter, why don't you do it?

I don't think, I think someone else this time--

You know, I've always admired your speaking voice, Peter.

Same.

It's got a sort of drone to it.

Drone? A sort of pleading to it.

Eventually, people just listen to you out of pity.

I actually don't want to do it.

That's sorted, then.

Cheers, Peter.

Right, so, I've been thinking.

We've been together a while now.

Only, I think we've sort of grown up differently.

I need testosterone, you know?

And you're, well, you're just a bit too estrogen.

I knew you'd understand.

No, sorry, I don't.

Are you leaving me?

What?

No!

Why would you think that?!

Oh, just for a moment, I-- You're leaving me.

I've packed your bags.

Sorry.

I just don't think you're man enough for me.

You're telling me to leave?

I know.

But, you know, new beginnings.

It'll be good for both of us.

Bags are at the top of the stairs.

We've been married nearly 10 years.

Yeah, it was nice.

Thanks, and everything.

We were gonna try for a baby.

Mental, wasn't it?

But I think we can stay friends, yeah?

I work to pay rent for this house.

You don't do anything.

You leave!

You...

Trollop!

Being stuck in an unhappy marriage is a lot like being stuck in quicksand.

Well, people think that if you kick your legs and make a fuss, you'll sink more quickly and you'll die, but that's just a myth.

Most people are too tall to be completely swallowed.

And, well, like a marriage, well...

Oh.

I completely forgot what my point was.

Oh, no.

This, for the lesson, a graphical representation--

I don't want to know, Peter.

Not bad.

Hello, what can I do for you?

Peter Hudders.

You haven't changed a bit.

Well, you're older, obviously.

I'm sorry, I don't...

Richard?!

How are you, son? Yeah, fine.

God, I thought you'd be dead by now.

Not yet.

Not yet.

How's things?

Yeah, fine. Great.

Well, how are you?

I've got piles.

Oh.

Have you ever accidentally sat on one of your balls?

Can't say I have, no.

Well, that's what piles are like.

Lovely to see you.

Brilliant.

What do you want?

You've not asked how Frankie is.

I spoke to Frankie not long ago.

A phone call?

Two years ago?

Not like when you were younger.

You'd need a crowbar to separate you lot back then.

How's Frankie?

Dying.

What?

Cancer.

Testicular.

They say he's not that long left.

Shit.

Shit indeed, my boy.

Frankie sent me.

He wants to see you again.

Me? All of you.

Adam, Smithy, Gaz, the lot of you.

Don't know why.

Never really liked any of you.

I can't just up and leave, Richard.

I've got work, I've got a wife.

That'd be why you're camping out in your classroom, is it?

Okay, well, things aren't great for me right now, but I'm sorry, Richard, I'm busy.

I haven't seen the others for years.

About time for a little reunion, then, I'd say.

Richard-- He's got a week, Peter, and that's if we're lucky.

I'd hurry up if I were you.

His address.

He moved up north a few years ago.

Dewsbury.

God knows why.

Stinks of cow shit, but he likes it.

A week, Peter.

When you're a kid, you assume you'll live forever.

That doesn't last long.

Sooner or later, you realize none of us are here for very long.

Shit.

And after that, whether you realize it or not, you try and try to push it into the corners.

Focus on today, focus on the weekend or the next holiday until you forget.

But then forgetting doesn't last very long either.

And, kids, that's why God invented cheap whiskey.

Ah.

Knock yourselves out.

Speech.

Speech.

No speech.

Um.

Oh.

Oh, yeah.

Work hard.

Work hard, guys!

Work hard, it's all you can do!

If you work hard, you can get a really good job and stuff, and you won't have to come back to the same dump of a school that you went to.

I'm only here 'cause nobody else could be assed!

Now, one time, I thought this was a particularly nice place, but I think that was a weekend.

I think that's quite enough, Peter!

No, I'm fine!

I'm fine!

Oh, don't listen to me, kids.

Listen...

Do you know what, kids?

Election says why does everybody have to be such an asshole?

An asshole!

Asshole.

Asshole!

Don't, asshole! Get your things, Peter!

You're fired!

Fired?! Fired, am I?!

You can't fire me, because I quit!

I quit and good luck!

Life has its little ways of showing you the way.

It's easy if you know how to spot the signs, but most of the time, the signs are poxy little things in complimentary fortune cookies written by a seven-year-old North Korean on a zero-hour contract.

In this case, the sign was pretty straight forward.

And my nan used to say, "When the universe calls, answer the phone."

Well, she didn't say it.

She wrote it down.

And by that time, she was totally insane, so she'd written it in her own shit.

But it's the thought that counts.

Shit, man.

I only spoke to him a few months ago.

He didn't say anything.

So, you'll come, then?

I don't know, mate.

It might be a bit tricky.

Why?

Oh, hello!

Didn't say we had have visitors, Garry.

Sorry, this is Peter.

He's an old mate from school.

Oh. Yeah.

Nice to meet you.

Yeah.

This is Elle.

Say hello, darling.

Your baby, Gaz.

Yeah. Your.

Bless.

Yeah, she'll be two in a couple of months.

Right happy little family, we are, yeah.

Oh, she's so tiny.

You've been holiday recently?

Oh, no.

We wish.

No, no.

Stacey says that happens sometimes.

Did she? Yeah.

So, going away for a while might be a bit tricky, mate.

Can't leave Stace on her own, now, can I?

What's that?

One of our mates ain't well, babe.

In fact, he ain't got long left.

Pete was saying we should go and see him.

Oh, no.

Aww, that's sad, hey?

Well, you should go, babe.

I'll be all right.

Are you sure?

Yeah, yeah!

You should go see your friend, hey?

I'll find someone to occupy me.

Or something!

Not someone!

Oh, what am I like, hey?

While Gaz was busy playing happy families, Adam had abandoned his quest for porn celebrity, but he moved into the world of banking instead.

This way, he could screw even more people.

Mr. Woods has canceled all his appointments today.

I can book you for tomorrow.

We're old friends.

If you just tell him our names, I'm sure he'll want to see us.

Okay.

Mr. Woods, I've got--

I don't give two fucking useless sacks of runny shit--

I think we should just go up.

Doors opened.

He seemed really angry, Pete.

Well, it's nice to know he hasn't changed.

Adam?

It's Peter.

And Gaz.

From school.

Are you all right?

Maybe he's having a moment to himself.

What?

Well, Stace does that sometimes.

When she gets stressed out, she goes away for a few days.

And when she comes back, she's much happier.

You know, Gaz, we need to have a little chat about that at some point.

Adam?

We're coming in.

Fucking hell! Jesus!

Quick, get something to cut him down with!

It's all right, Adam!

I've got you! I've got you!

Fuck off!

It's not working!

You fucking phlegm sacks!

What is it?!

A spoon!

Oh, for fuck's sake!

What?

I don't know what you're getting so worked up about!

You were gonna to kill yourself!

So what, people do it all the time!

But why would you even try that?!

I mean, it can never be as bad as that!

Fuck me!

You would too if you had my job.

They're trying to pin me for fraud, Peter.

I mean, since when is signing other people's names on documents been considered fraudulent?

Quite a while, I think, Adam.

They're all fuckers, bankers.

They haven't got a single fucking brain cell between them. Oh, shit!

My eye.

Ah!

I'm blind!

Ah! Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.

And this fucking thing never fucking stops!

Connors, listen to me you fucking fanny clot!

If you ever call me on this fucking number again, so help me, God, I will find the address of your first-born's school and I will fly a fucking airbus into it first thing Monday fucking morning!

Now, fuck off!

Well, what can I do for you two clownish sponges anyway?

Frankie's dying.

That's not good.

He might not last the week.

His dad came to see me.

Frankie wants to see us.

Well, it's either that or I very probably go to jail.

I call shotgun.

Smithy was harder to find.

No one had heard from him for a few years.

And where do you go when a middle-aged man disappears?

His mother's.

I never thought I'd see you boys again.

Smithy said he's not seen you in a long while.

One of our friends has cancer, Mrs. Meadows.

You remember Frankie?

Oh, that's a shame.

He was the handsome one.

I remember.

So, we were all going to go and see him.

Together.

But because we've not seen Smithy for such a long time, we sort of don't know where to look.

He's at the pub tonight.

He's on a date.

A what?

And I was really nervous about tonight.

So, what do you do?

I work with Sild Chervice...

Child services.

No way!

I was a foster kid!

Oh, were you?

You weren't one of the abused kids, were you?

'Cause there is a lot of them.

Exactly.

I mean, how hard is it?

The economy has to work.

If not, we're just working our asses off, waiting for the debt swallow us up!

And what would that make us?

Greek?!

Greek.


All right, fatty?

I can't believe it.

I thought Frankie would live forever.

I know.

So, you'll come, then?

We'll get a coach first thing tomorrow morning.

A fucking coach?

I am not getting on a fucking coach.

What's wrong with your car?!

Chelsea's taking it.

So, you'll come, then?

Yeah, definitely.

Jesus.

Well, that's sorted, then.

Ladies, raise your glasses.

To Frankie.

To Frankie.

Makes you think, doesn't it?

Everything's so temporary.

Nothing lasts.

Whatever you do, whatever you say, it means nothing 'cause it all comes down to this.

Friends, memories--

Just shut up.

Barman, eight pints, twelve shots, a yard of White Ace, and whatever these wank bags are having.

♪ Beer, beer, beer ♪

♪ I'm going for a beer ♪

♪ Beer, Beer, Beer ♪

♪ I'm gonna drink some beer ♪

♪ I like drinking beer ♪

♪ Lovely, lovely beer ♪

♪ Beer, Beer, Beer ♪

♪ I'm going for a beer ♪

♪ Beer, Beer, Beer ♪

♪ I'm gonna drink some beer ♪

♪ I like drinking beer ♪

♪ Lovely, lovely beer ♪ Yes, of course I'm in!

Well, I didn't asked to be fucking walked home, did I?!

It's not West Side fucking Story!

No, I haven't seen it!

No, I won't be late.

Yes, I'll be there on time, oh, fuck off!

Good evening, Mr. Woods.

Yslav!

Dolohov.

What is it, six months?

God, doesn't time fly?!

You're probably here about the money, but I--

Eight months, Mr. Woods.

Eight!

We waited for your call.

We hear nothing, so we come find you.

And we told you we would if you played with us.

Final demand, last warning, and final demand.

You do not have my money, Mr. Woods.

And I think that you don't want to give it back!

What?! God, no!

No, look, just take me to the cashpoint!

I've got it-- You will not go to the cashpoint, Mr. Woods!

You knew what would happen if I did not get my money back!

What? What did he say?!

What's he saying?!

What's happening?!

What are you doing?!

I've got the money!

No need for this!

I've got the money, I've got the money!


This is terrible idea.

I'm too old for all of this.

Well, we made it on time.

About fucking time.

Ridiculous, just fucking ridiculous!

I might just well have fucking walked, seeing as you can't drive more than nine fucking miles an hour!

Fucking waste of skin.

Was that really necessary?

Absolutely not.

Do you even know her name?

Why does that matter?

Anyway, where's Gaz?

Oh, Jesus Christ.

The fuck's wrong with you?

Oh, must've been that kebab last night.

Oh, Jesus.

There's a toilet on the coach, ain't there?

Yes, son.

Brilliant. Yours to use for just 20 P a go.

20 P to use the toilet?

That's extortion!

Don't know what that means, mate, but feel free to stick your wang out of the window.

Some have tried.

Some have even managed not to have it knocked off by a passing truck.

Right, then, ladies and gents, all aboard!

Hello? Good morning, is that Mr. Peter Hudders speaking?

Yes, speaking.

Just a quick courtesy call to see if you were interested in a limited range of super cheap life insurance.

No, I'm not interested.

Thank you. I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Hudders, perhaps we could interest you--

No, no, I said no.

Right, I'm disconnecting.

Okay, right, I'm disconnecting.

Who was that?

Salespeople.

God knows where they get their numbers from.

Oh, well, they collect them on a huge database.

And it's not just phone numbers.

Texts, internet searches.

That's not true, is it?

It is, it is, it is. It isn't, it isn't, it isn't, it isn't. It is, it is, it is, it is, it is. It isn't, it isn't, it isn't, it isn't! It is!

It isn't! It is!

It isn't. It is.

Isn't. But it is.

So, I'd watch out if I were you.

Good morning, it's Jodie calling from Fast Connection where getting you the number one deal--

Yeah, you just called.

I'm not interested.

It's just a courtesy call to see if you're interested in our super cheap range of loft insulation.

What have you done?

Nothing.

Toilet wouldn't flush.

He's emptied his wringer like a fat carol singer.

He's at an ass staff from his doner kebab.

He's left a platter of splatter matter.

He had a close encounter with the turd kind.

Excellent.

I need to pee too, for fuck's sake!

Does it smell?

Oh, God!

Oh!

Oh, no.

No, okay.

Okay.

Oh, God.

Oh, God--

Oh, for fuck's sake.

Bloody what?!

Sorry about that, sir, we seemed to have lost you during that last call.

Just a quick call to see if you were interested in a special deal of wholesale crotch rub.

I don't want fucking crotch rub!

Right, no problem, sir.

Now, would you be interested in a special deal, sir, where we provide a 25% reimbursement--

Just fuck off!

25%?

That's pretty good.

That's pretty good, actually.

Yeah, no, no, no, no, no, say more, say more.

Yeah, no, so, yeah, I have recently become in need of a new house, so go on, go on, go on, yeah--

Our show home scheme is just six viewings every two months. Right, yes, fine, yes.

Six?

Indeed, just six.

That's great, go on, yeah--

You sound quite interested, sir.

Could I possibly arrange for you to call our show home department at a time convenient for you? Yes, yes, yes.

What do I need to do--

You don't need to do anything, sir.

I'll just find the number for you now.

Yes, quickly, yes!

Quickly, quickly--

Going as fast as I can, sir.

But, wait, wait!

Quickly! I'm sorry, sir, but there is a protocol to follow and I am yet to find the number for you.

If you would please just be patient--

Oh, God, I do not have time to be patient!

You are slowly sinking into a runny pile of shit!

Ah, here it is, sir.

Number is 0800-634-7754. Wait!

No!

Would you like me to reread the number?

Yes, yes!

Certainly, sir, it's 0800-634--

No, no!

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Oh, God!

Oh, no!

Oh, God!

Oh, God!

Shit.

Oh, shit.

Oh, shit.

Oh, God.

Oh, God.

You were ages, mate.

Jesus Christ, why the fuck do I smell ass diesel?!

It wasn't me!

Oh, mate, it's you.

You didn't.

Jesus Christ, Peter!

Don't worry, mate.

Smell probably goes away in a little while.

Yeah.

Come on.

We're here.

Right, so, little issue.

We're meant to be in Dewsbury.

Yes?

We're not in Dewsbury.

No?

We're in Chester.

Chester.

Chester.

Chester, as in that little slice of England that no one gives a fucking shit about!

Actually, it's meant to be quite a nice--

As in Chester there's miles and miles the fucking away from Dewsbury!

We are where we are.

We're not that far away, so--

So, what are we gonna do now?

It's late.

We should find a hotel.

Hotel, is it?

You want The Nip Slip.

Doris is a good friend of mine.

She'll see you right.

Fairbrother Street, 10 minutes up the road.

Oh, cheers, mate.

You lot haven't changed, have you?

Just all the same useless cunts you were at school!

A moron, a semi-suicidal tosser, me with my shitty arm, and a man who would probably eat the others if he went without sugar for a few hours, walk into a hotel, sounds like the beginning of a joke, doesn't it?

And, in many ways, it was.

One big funny ha-ha-ha fuck-my-life joke.

You boys were out late.

Yeah, we ended up on the wrong coach.

Hey, what are you like!

I'm not one to talk, though, I suppose.

Me and my Hogarth, God bless him, we were locked up in a cell in Thailand for a whole month one summer.

Such a cruel race.

I mean, a little bit of Charlie never hurt nobody, did it?

So, how do you swing, then?

You, I know a bottom when I see one.

No.

No, no, no, no.

No, no.

We are on the way to see a friend.

He's not very well.

It's cancer.

Oh, nasty disease.

Terrible.

Is that how Hogarth died?

Oh, no, love, no, no.

It was the gimp mask that killed him.

Zip jammed on the mouth.

But I sued the company.

Used the money to buy this place.


No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!

No, no, no, no, no, no!

Oh, God.

Oh, my God!

Keep the bloody noise down!

Adam! Gaz!

They're all shagging!

They're all shagging!

Fuck's sake, mate!

Put it away!

Is something the matter, love?

You're all freaks!

Mm.

Good morning.

We have a few questions we like to ask you.

Oh, aye?

What if I don't fancy answering no questions, eh?

Then I cut off...

The lips?

Da, the lips. Lips.

Hey, such a carry on last night.

I just assumed you and your friends knew.

We're highly reviewed in Swinger's Digest.

We even won a Blowie last year!

Where's Gaz and Smithy?

Why the fuck should I know?

Let's just get out of here.

Here's a little gift bag from us.

Your receipts are inside.

Thanks, Doris. See you again.

Ooh, it's lovely, that.

Makes your bits taste like strawberry.

Don't.

Get off! Get off!

You're so frigid.

I am not frigid!

I'm not!

I just draw the line at being passed around a group of grandparents like nibbles at a party!

Oh, lighten up, will you?

Ring Smithy.

You ring Smithy.

Oi, laddie.

Are you with Gaz?

I don't care, where are you?!

Where?

Oh.

All right?

I'm not getting in that.

Where did you get it?

Me and Smithy went for a walk this morning.

We met this guy trying to get rid of his car.

Dead nice.

And he said we could have it for free if I let him take a few photos of me.

What?

Gaz, did he touch you?

No, nothing funny.

I just let him take a few photos of me in my pants.

It was dead innocent.

Was it?

I'm not getting in it.

It doesn't matter what it looks like, does it?

No, as long as it gets us to Frankie.

I don't give a shit, I'm not getting in it.

I'm not going in the car.

It's not happening.

It's not gonna happen, not on my fucking life.

A race against time, across the country to see our dying friend for one last time, it couldn't be more heart-breaking, but it could've been in a car that didn't have RIM JOB as the number plate.

And how was Doris this morning?

I don't want her name mentioned around me, thank you.

Don't see what the fuss was about, really.

Well, you weren't the one being molested, were you, Smithy?

Don't suppose you'd mind, would you, Smithy?

Need to pop your cherry one day.

Fuck off!

I'm not a virgin.

Don't be silly.

Of course you are.

I'm not.

Oh, leave him alone, Adam.

I wish I'd waited a bit longer, mate.

Losing your virginity to a ham sandwich doesn't really count, does it, Gaz?

Shut up, Adam.

And anyway, you can't not be a virgin.

You spent all of this time wrapped around us.

I'm not a virgin.

You are! I'm not!

You are! I'm not!

But you are, though!

Are we really doing this?

First time you had sex.

Go.

It was at...

I can't. No, you can't

'cause there isn't one.

There is.

Yeah, we believe you.

Is she in the car with us now?

You know what, Adam, I bet I lost my virginity before you did!

Oh, like fuck you did.

Who'd have looked at that pink acne'd face and thought, "I'll have a slice of that pudding"?

Well, if it's any of your business, Adam--

If you've spread your seed, I think it's the world's business!

It's quite sweet, really.

Don't need to lie to us.

I'm not lying. No, of course you're not.

He is. I'm not!

So, who was it, then, chubby?!

Who was she?!

Just leave it, will you? Who would fuck you?!

Why do you need to know?! Who'd fuck that?!

Why are you pushing at it?! That useless piece of shit?!

It's none of your business! No one would--

Just leave it, Adam!

No one would-- Mrs. Carmichael!

Mrs. Carmichael?

The music teacher?

Yeah.

Mrs. Carmichael the music teacher?

Yes!

Fuck off.

Are you sure?

I'm pretty sure, Gaz.

Jesus Christ.

I'm gonna be sick.

Are you really sure?

Yes, Gaz!

I stayed behind one lesson and she sort of--

Tried out your flute?

No, we just-- Hit some notes?

No, I--

Banged her drums?

Peter!

I am gonna be sick.

So, now, you know.

I'm not a virgin.

Jesus Christ.

Well, think I need a drink after that.

Can you still smell it?

I think it's faded now, mate.

Do I want crisps?

Shitting fuck!

Hide me! Everybody hide!

What? Hey?

Oh, my God, it's--

Wow!

No way!

Oh, my God, wow.

Hi guys! Neville?

Yeah, it's the old Nevillator.

What are you doing here?

How long's it been?

What, 26 years, seven months, three weeks, and two days?

That's ages.

Another century wouldn't go amiss!

We're on our way to--

Oh, to a thing.

What you doing here?

Oh, stops off for a carvery on the way to a funeral.

Mad, isn't it?

Mental.

Sorry to hear about your breakup, Peter.

How'd you know about my breakup?

Oh, Facebook.

Facebook's brilliant.

I've been following you lot for ages.

Mad, isn't it?

But I'm not on Facebook.

I know, but Chelsea is.

Yeah, she seems really happy.

Brilliant.

Is it true that she cheated on you?

Is it true she threw you out?

Where are you staying now now?

You can stay with me on my bed seat if you like.

I think I can manage, thanks, Neville.

Cool!

Cute kid, Gaz!

How old is she?

I'm going for a piss.

Oh, yeah, she's gonna be two in a couple of months, actually, yeah.

How did you know about Elle?

I'm friends with Stacey on Facebook.

Oh, yeah? Yeah.

Have you guys met?

Yeah. Once.

Killer tattoo she's got.

I didn't know you could get a tattoo there.

Anyway, just gonna go check on the old pussy wagon.

In a bit, homies!

Of all the people.

Facebook.

What a load of rubbish.

What did he mean about Stace?

Fuck's sake!

You're supposed to leave a fucking space!

It's basic fucking manners!

Mad, isn't it?

Isn't it?

So where are you off to?

Oh, fuck's sake!

Ah, fair dos.

Can I come?

Can we leave right now before that fuck weasel comes out of the toilet?

Ah, thank God for, oh, for fuck's sake.

Adam, you didn't wash your hands.

All right, Adam?

Mad, this, isn't it?

I have always disliked you immensely.

Gaz, onwards.

Does anyone want a Polo?

Oh, yeah.

Yeah, go on.

Oh.

Thank you.

Gaz, who did you say you got the car from again?

What's that?

Oh.

He was really nice.

I think he might have been a bit gay.

No, I'm sure the nice man just took pictures of you in your pants to show his wife.

Really?

Why do I get the feeling this is gonna be a long ride?

Oh, I don't know.

Bloody hell, Brian, what you stop for?

You near had my eye out!

Morning, dears.

Room for two?

What you doing, Pete?

I'm leaving a review for that hell hole.

How do you spell debauched?

D-E-B, uh, O-R-C-H?

No, that doesn't look right.

Adam, how do you spell, Jesus Christ!

Peter!

Shit, he looks terrible!

Where did you get the second nose from?

Was it expensive?

What's he saying?

I think he's high!

Adam, have you taken something?

Adam?

Adam, what have you taken?

What are these?!

Where did this come from?!

Okay, so, the guy handing out the cars for indecent images is also a drug dealer too, is he?

Well, well done, Gaz!

Well fucking done!

Adam, look at me!

You've taken a vicious cocktail of various hallucinogenic drugs!

Peter, you're so oily.

Oily?!

You prick, I'm not oily!

My dad, my dad, when he finds out about this, he'll have you turned into tampons.

And shoved into Hillary's nice love vag.

Beware the tangerine!

Thank fuck for that.

Well, he's not dead.

Just unconscious.

Don't we need to get him to a hospital?!

I mean, he might need his stomach pumped!

We haven't got time!

We need to get to Frankie!

Oh, don't!

He'll be fine.

Who wants another Polo?

No!

Oh, I do love role-playing.

It reminds me of the time my Hogarth locked me in the basement for a month.

Oh, he did a brilliant Josef Fritzl.

The accent was spot on. Four men came here, yes?

You'll have to be a bit more specific, love.

Yesterday, four men.

Where are they?

Oh, you mean Peter and his friends.

Oh, they're not gay, you know, boys?

You're out of luck.

Oh, not 'cause I'm judging, of course.

My friend Mickey, Uncut Mick we call him, just our little--

Where are they?!

Mickey and his Paul?

The Canary's, I think.

Lovely cruise by all accounts.

Bloody hell!

What are you doing?!

Now, you listen here, young man, I'm all for a bit of kinky every now and then, but I draw the line at violence!

Think I'm going to faint.

Where are they?!

You tell me now!

Well, they left about an hour ago, but I don't see what's that got to do--

Fuck it!

Don't forget to tell your friends about us!

The Nip Slip, Blowie Award winning establishment of pleasure and rela, oh, fuck it.

No.

Oh, no.

No.

Ah, that's--

What's that?

Aerosmith.

No, no, that noise!

What?

There's a light flashing on the dashboard.

Oh, that, that's probably nothing.

Oh.

Well, actually, that could be something.

Well, quick, pull over!

Get on the hard shoulder, you fucking fuck stick!

All right.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

The battery's dead.

Oh, how strange.

It's almost like someone wasted it trying to choose a fucking radio station!

You!

I think I've got a bite!

You going anywhere near Dewsbury?

What?

Dewsbury.


Can I not leave you lot for more than a fucking hour and not expect you to fuck things up while I'm gone?!

Oh, God!

What the fuck have you done?!

Where are they?

Where are who?!

Oh, my head's throbbing.

Oh, fuck's sake.

Peter!

Peter, wake up!

Oh, shit. Where are we?

Oh, brilliant fucking question!

Are they here?

Are who here?!

There was two men.

We were hitchhiking.

Hitchhiking?!

Fucking hitchhiking?!

Are you trying to get us put on the fucking register?!

My ropes aren't very tight.

Oh.

Oh, oh, you should complain.

I think I can get my hands free!

How many did you say there were?

Two. Two?!

Fucking two?!

And there's three of you?!

Four if fucking Shrek here used me as a blunt instrument!

Oh, fucking brilliant!

Are you telling me that two fucking randoms got the better of you three?!

They were dangerous, Adam!

Oh, well, they would have to be, wouldn't they, to get the better of you three fucking musket twats!

Oi! Adam.

Hey!

You two!

Adam. Where the fuck are you?!

Adam. I wanna find out what pair of fucking fuck Muppets have got the fucking balloons to tie me up in the middle of fucking no where with these three augmented tits!

Adam, shh!

Look.

Hi gents.

I was meant to call you.

Hello!

Oh, fair enough.

Oh, well, never mind.

You guys must be really angry.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, look, there's my crown.

Never mind.

We have been looking for you, Mr. Woods.

You know what it's like, last minute holiday and all that.

What?

You owe me a lot of money.

Oh, well, come on!

You say a lot of money, it's not a lot of money, not really.

50,000 pounds!

50 grand?!

What did you need 50,000 pounds for?!

Things! What?!

And anyway, it doesn't really matter

'cause I've their money.

You do not have the money, Mr. Woods.

If you had the money, I think you would have given it to me.

What are you gonna do to him?

Him?!

Him?!

Oh, thanks a fucking bunch!

That's solidarity, that is, right there!

He's right, Mr. Woods.

Yeah, fucking right I'm, what?!

We will deal with you, Mr. Woods.

And your friends will be dealt with also.

Huh?!

What for?!

Witnesses, they're not good for business.

Fucking untie me, you spatulas!

Oh, for fuck's sake!

Oh, get off!

You fucking--

I'm so sorry.


Jesus Christ.

I've killed him.

Oh, my God, I've killed him, I've killed him.

I've killed him.

Oh, Jesus Christ, I've killed him.

No, you've just knocked him out a bit.

Fucking untie me, you fucking helmets!

Those men, they were following us?!

I don't know.

Maybe.

They could've killed us, mate!

They are dangerous gangsters!

And Russian!

You should've told us, Adam!

Look, all right, I'm sorry.

What?

I'm fucking sorry!

Are you sure he isn't dead?

Because I don't want to sound big-headed or anything, but I did actually hit him quite hard.

It really wasn't that hard, mate.

Well, look, Gaz, you would be surprised.

I can be quite strong sometimes.

I might have hit him really hard, actually, so--

Fuck's sake, it was barely a flick.

He probably fainted from boredom.

No, actually, you don't get to talk!

You don't get to talk because it's your fault someone may or may not be lying dead in there because you're a bad friend and a fucking shit face!

Jackpot!

Yes.


It's so nice.

No, it's not.

I'm nervous, Adam.

Yeah, me too.

Hey, what if Frankie's turned into a complete prick or something?

Gaz.

You can't say that about dying people.

Frankie's not like that.

He'll be the same.

Oh, fuck it.


Where is everyone?

Maybe they're being burgled.

Or maybe the door's open because of something more reasonable?

Look, we need to be a bit respectful.

He's not well.

He's probably tired.

Bollocks!

He might be bald and skinny, but I've been through hell and back to see that gimp.

Frankie Joseph Budden, you terminal legend.

No.

No.

Have they been burgled, Pete?

Pete?

You just missed him.

He died yesterday morning.

I'm sorry.

I thought we had longer.

We had longer with him than we thought we would.

We were lucky.

Did he...

I mean, was it--

Gaz, it was peaceful.

The funeral's at the end of the week.

You should stay.

End of the week?

So soon?

He had everything planned out, paid for.

No point hanging about, eh?

Adam, son, are you all right?

He tried holding on.

He did.

He really wanted to see you.

Melanie's coming back tomorrow.

I'm sure she'd like to meet you all.

Who's Melanie?

His wife.

They loved each other so much.

God, I hope Tammy remembers him.

Who's Tammy?

Their girl.

Little tyke, just like her dad.

Adam.


Hey!

Hey!


I don't want to do this.

Why not?

She's his wife.

It'll be nice to meet her.

I don't want to do it.

What's wrong with you?

There's upset, and there's just plain dickheadery.

It's nice to meet you.

Frankie spoke about you all the time.

He loved you boys.

He always meant to, to reunite.

Then he was diagnosed.

Sorry.

We tried to get here on time.

It's fine.

He knew you were trying.

It's just, it escalated quite quickly.

Sorry.

He was watching this, the night before he died.

He said you should watch it.

Our end of year assembly?

From our second year?

I think so.

Do you want to watch it?

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

♪ All things bright and beautiful ♪

♪ All creatures great and small ♪ Fucking leaves.

Why does this even exist?

I remember that.

I had bruises for weeks.

Friendship bruises.

Why was Frankie laughing?

He looks really happy.

It sounds a bit silly, but I was always got a bit jealous when he talked about you, about all the things that you did.

Oh, we did so much shit.

Surprised we never got caught.

Nah.

Frankie was too clever for that.

Is this fucking thing recording now, or what?

Hello, lads.

First things first: you're really fucking late.

Not winning, boys.

You are shit.

I'm not sure if you will see this video.

I mean, if you hurry your asses up and get here in time, you won't have to.

But if you are watching this video, well, then it means you probably didn't make it in time.

I know.

I look like shit, don't I?

A big bald fucking baby.

That's all right, I have cancer.

Okay, so, really wanted to see you all again.

I really did.

I don't know why I didn't phone more, or why we didn't meet up.

Guess life just kind of carries you away sometimes, don't it?

So, there is a few things that I wanted to say.

Okay, Gaz.

There's no real easy way for me to say this, but...

Well, basically, your wife has been cheating on you.

Sorry, mate.

And, of course, you know, that explains Elle.

Right, anyway.

Smithy.

Smithy, mate.

You are fucking top.

Mean that, bud.

You're fucking top.

Don't let anybody tell you otherwise.

You're fucking brilliant.

Ignore Adam 'cause he's a bellend.

You know?

And also talk to Melanie.

She'll give you some numbers of a few of her mates.

Just don't leer.

Yeah, you're a leerer, mate.

Stop it.

Girls don't like that shit.

Peter.

Peter, Peter, Peter.

Just wear less knitted vests, yeah?

Just wear less knitted vests.

They don't do anything for you, mate.

They just make you look like a hungry librarian.

And a prick.

I'm only joking, mate.

Love you.

And last but by no means least, Adam.

I'll always remember--

No, no.

What's wrong?

Oh, he never had a clue what he was doing with this sort of thing.

I'm sorry, Adam.

It's fine.

It's fine.

Maybe we should just...

Maybe we should probably just go.

Can you tell Richard we won't be long?

Just need to get some air.

Look, I'm sorry about him.

He's really not taking it very well.

It's fine, really.

Adam, we all loved him.

Were Frankie and Adam boyfriends?

I hate camping.

We're not camping.

No?

Sitting around a fire, sleeping outdoors?

No, you're right.

Well, it's better than being in there with...

With them.

They didn't know Frankie like we did.

His wife and his parents?

We knew him.

We did.

Properly.

I met him in detention.

Frankie, that is.

When Mr. Gulliver went out of the room, to the toilet, he dipped his bullocks in his coffee cup.

He had scalded bullocks for weeks after that.

You know, I thought we might be able to do something when we got here.

A few jokes, or something.

Like we used to.

Is it a flower?

Is it too much?

I thought we wanted to be remembered.

"Is it too much"?

Oh, fucking hell!

Yeah, just a smidge.

Fuckers.

You remember Jamie Risco?

Mm. Yeah.

He used to shove my head down the toilet every Wednesday before Science.

Frankie walked in on him doing it once, told Risco to do one.

Never ever did it again.

He always stood up for me like that.

Top bloke.

What about you, Adam?

You knew him before we did, before school.

How did you two meet?

Oh, for fuck's sake.

Well, he moved in a few doors down from us, and one night I nicked one of Dad's fags and took it round the bins, and he was already there, smoking a 10-pack he'd stolen from his mum's handbag.

We couldn't separated after that.

Do I look like I'm fucking crying?!

Yes, a bit.

You do.

We made it here together.

And at least we get to say goodbye to Frankie.

Wasn't exactly straight forward, was it?

You literally went through shit, Peter.

Well, at least I didn't fuck Mrs. Carmichael.

Yeah, all right.

What, and that's worse than posing in your Y-fronts to get a car?

Cars are here.

We are gathered here on this very sad day to celebrate the life of our brother Francis.

I believe Francis's father, Richard, has prepared a few words to say.

Frankie was...

He was a total pain in the arse mostly.

There wasn't a day went by when he was young when he wasn't wanting to borrow money or asking a favor.

I loved those years.

Me and his mum, Francine, were his chefs, chauffeurs, bankers, you name it.

And he always asked with that cheeky grin.

The little fucker.

We could never say no.

I was with him the night he let go.

I could tell.

He could tell.

It was like there was a big shadow over the house.

Melanie was telling him about the first time they met, and he was smiling.

It was the first time he'd smiled in ages.

Frankie would never be overtaken by the horrible disease that took him in the end.

The cancer didn't meet Frankie's wife, Melanie.

The cancer didn't propose, it didn't marry her.

The cancer wasn't the father to Frankie's daughter, Tammy.

The cancer wasn't our son!

Frankie was.

That was all Frankie.

Son, husband, father,

and mate.

I'll miss you, son.


Smell that.

Egg mayonnaise or prawn cocktail?

Frankly, it's worrying you can't tell them apart.

Mad, isn't it?

Neville?!

What? Why?

This is the funeral you were going to?

Yeah.

You knew Frankie had died?

Yeah, saw it on--

Facebook.

Mad, isn't it?

You knew Frankie had died, but you didn't think to tell his best friends when you saw them?

No, yeah, must've forgot.

Sorry, Peter.

What you doing after this?

Can I come? Oh, fuck off!

Twat rag!

Everything sort of unclenches after a funeral.

The sad stuff's over with, and now the one thing everyone wants to do is drink and forget.

One thing to be said for wakes, there's always alcohol, and lots of it.

And one thing to be said for alcohol, it's a bloody brilliant cure for big fat wusses like Smithy.

I'm gonna go over to her.

Right.

Maybe try to look less murderous before you do.

Ah.

All right?

Do you come here often?

To funerals?

You must be Smithy.

Melanie's told me about you.

Did she?

Mm.

Oh, she did, did she?

Yeah.

She did?

Okay.

What exactly did she--

Stop.

You're doing it all wrong.

Yeah.

Look, I didn't even ask your name.

Sorry.

Sally.

How about a drink, hey?

Yeah.


You fucking English bastard!


Fuck.

Yslav?

Are you all right, mate?

Oh, shit!

I can't hear you properly!

What, fuck!

What's happened to you?!

There's been a little hiccup.

Yslav turned up.

Did he do this?!

A little something happened.

Minuscule, really.

Tiny.

Jesus Christ, Adam!

It was a fucking accident!

He just slipped!

What?!

What do we do?!

Well, we need to get rid of it!

What?!

No!

No, we can't do that!

We have to phone the police!

Oh, we can't phone the fucking police!

I'll go to fucking jail!

Well, no, it's self-defense!

That's a thing, isn't it?!

They'll just tell you off!

Tell me off?!

How fucking old are you?!

They'll put me cupboard-sized hole with Killer fucking Kevin!

Oi, lardy cake, where the fuck are you going?!

Now is not the time for a fucking Mars bar!

Shh! Fuck!

Someone will hear us!

Are you sure he's dead?

No, Gaz, I think the large fucking dent in the side of his fucking head is a fucking fashion statement!

The diggers must've left these behind.

No!

No! It's a cemetery, Peter.

Nope, we can't do this!

I am not involved in this in any way.

Well done, fatso.

Grab a spade. No, mate, we can't do this!

Adam could go to jail for this!

Absolutely nothing to do with it.

Nothing at all.

Let's move the body.

There's lots of ways to bond.

You could go on a team building weekend, or meet up for a drink a couple of times a week.

No one's ever said that a great way of bonding is to bury the body of a Russian gangster, except maybe if you were a gangster.

It's not deep enough.

From Russia.

It needs to be deep enough so the foxes can't smell it.

Or wherever it is that gangsters come from these days.

Gaz, you are not holding your shovel properly!

Probably somewhere like Stockport.

It needs to be deeper!

What the fuck happened to you not getting involved?!

I'm not!

I'm just suggest--

Yeah, well, I suggest you take my spade and shove it up your ass!

Brilliant!

Well done, Adam.

Just the sort of attitude we need when we're burying the body of someone you almost sort of killed!

Keep going, jizz bank.

Go on, I dare you.

Stop it!

Both of you!

For God's sake, Adam, shut up!

We're doing this to save your ass.

And, Peter, why don't you grow a pair and help lift this body now!

I can't, I'm not involved.

Just fucking do it!

I don't think I can live with my mum anymore.

I'm not even sure I want to go home.

What's everyone else gonna do?

Well, I'll probably move up north with all the other homeless and unemployed people.

I really have to have a word with Stacey when we get back.

There's a few things that just don't make any sense.

I just don't think Elle's mine.

What makes you say that, mate?

She's a bit black.

Um, well, I suppose, now you come to mention it.

And I don't think you can have a black baby if both the parents are white.

Can you?

Sorry, mate.

What about you, Adam?

I don't know.

Go back to work.

Sort out all the shit I left behind.

Make sure my receptionist hasn't stuck herself to the desk with a staple gun.

We'll stay together, though, won't we?

Yeah.

Definitely.

Well, it's either you lot or fucking Neville.

Come on.

Let's fill this fucking hole in, and get home.

I knew someone whose mum tossed off a dead body to get the sperm and have a baby.

No you didn't, Gaz.

Yes, I did, his name was Billy.

Billy, really?

That was his real name, was it?

Despite what you just said being 100% impossible?

You can get sperm from a dead body.

And that's how we said goodbye to Frankie.

That wasn't exactly how we planned it.

There were definitely some differences.

For instance, Frankie would've actually been alive, and we wouldn't have had to bury the body of an angry Russian on top of our dear friend.

Actually, something like that was always bound to have happened.

But we walked away different men.

You should try it, Gaz.

We had changed, and we have Frankie to thank for that.

Nah, that's well wrong.

Innit?

I mean, you can't really do that.

Okay, we hadn't changed that much, but we definitely weren't the same.

Can you?

Never mind.

♪ I was falling to the side, you will never pick me up ♪

♪ The only money left is the penny in the cup ♪

♪ I tried my best ♪

Egg mayonnaise!

♪ I've gotta face another day, I've gotta chase another clue ♪

♪ Bending over backwards for the man who's in the suit ♪

♪ A landmark day, put a smile on my face for you ♪

♪ Minimum wage, yeah, minimum effort ♪

♪ But not too low in this desert ♪

♪ Minimum wage, rolled up my sleeve for you ♪

♪ Minimum wage, yeah, minimum effort ♪

♪ But not too low in this desert ♪

♪ Minimum wage, rolled up my sleeve for you ♪

♪ I've got a shopping list full of bills to pay ♪

♪ I shop at Rische for the chic class A ♪

♪ A landmark day with a smile on my face for you ♪

♪ I've got lump in my throat ♪

♪ 'Cause I'm scared to swallow truth ♪

♪ Go up in the center of another faded youth ♪

♪ A vicious cycle that I'm hanging, ready on two ♪

♪ Minimum wage, yeah, minimum effort ♪

♪ But not too low in this desert ♪

♪ Minimum wage, rolled up my sleeve for you ♪

♪ Minimum wage, yeah, minimum effort ♪

♪ But not too low in this desert ♪

♪ Minimum wage, rolled up my sleeve for you ♪

♪ Minimum wage, yeah, minimum effort ♪

♪ But not too low in this desert ♪

♪ Minimum wage, rolled up my sleeve for you ♪

♪ Minimum wage, yeah, minimum effort ♪

♪ But not too low in this desert ♪

♪ Minimum wage, rolled up my sleeve for you ♪