All language subtitles for Fresh Meat s04e02.eng

Maybe something
where I'd have an estate?

- Like, lots of land.
- OK.

- So... farming?
- What? Farming?

Oh, God no, that'd be awful.

I quite like the idea of
having my own radio show.

Choosing the music, being extremely
argumentative with racists

during phone-ins,
that kind of thing.

- I'm late for another meeting, so...
- Right, yes, sorry...

I've already applied for
a Fulbright Scholarship

to study international
relations at Yale.

- But now, I'm thinking I might not
apply to Ordnance Survey after all. - Oh. Why's that-?

Because it would entail working
in an office, with other people.

And you're not a people person?

Historically, no, I'm not.

Got one last week. I work in a pub.

Right. And is that a good idea
before your finals?

No choice, mate. I've got a
big old deficit to tuck into.

And the pub's a place
I can earn a bit of money,

do some revision and eat
a shitload of wasabi peas.

What would you be doing
on this estate?

Handing out prizes
at the local fete,

pootling around on one of
those big lawn-mowers

that looks like a tiny tractor...

What kind of WORK?

I've actually got an
Italian girlfriend,

so I've become much more easy-going
about all that sort of shit.

As long as there's food on the table

and vino in the bottelo,
it's all good.

So, you might prefer a less
sociably demanding job, perhaps?

Well, there's a reason why
Quasimodo worked in the bell tower

and not in the gift shop,
isn't there?

Yeah, maybe I'll have a
"career" in an "office",

where I wear a "skirt"
and have "meetings".

- Yes, maybe you will.
- And after work, go home to my "house" in my "Volvo",

put my "head" in an "oven"...

till I'm "dead".

Well, maybe best not
to put that on the CV?

Ugh, stop fucking fucking him!

It'd be fucking boring, though.

Reassuringly boring, yes.
I prefer uncomplicated.

Most of these oil rigs
are manned by Norwegians,

who are famously very plain-speaking

and don't bother with
this bourgeois bullshit,

like passive-aggression or smiling

and not being explicitly clear
when they're breaking up with you.

And for that reason alone,
they have my eternal respect.

Why wasn't I given an oil rig?

I could drive one of them around.

Get it spunking out oil
all over the shop.

Yeah, that's generally the
opposite of what they want, JP.

And you can shut up. Your brother's
got you with a pre-fab bank job.

It's mooks like me and Howard with
no contacts that are truly shafted.

Yeah, that is true.

But I'm still sick of
Tommo's hand-me-downs.

First, the school uniform, then
the ski salopettes and now the suit.

You know what? No more.

I don't need his help,
or his clothing.

I'm going my own way.

As of now!

The house isn't that way.

I don't care!

HORN BEEPS

Nice wheels, Kingo.

Oh, yeah. It's Rosa's motorino.
It's really cool, actually.

Unless it rains,
then it's appalling.

You look like you're going jousting.

Oh, yeah, ha! No, just...
delivering Rosa's pane e olio lunch.

I'll see you guys later
for another voyage

into the revise-o-sphere
though, right?

Not me, mate. I'll be at the pub.
Come down, if you want.

Oh, cool.
Can you get us free drinks?

Er, can Bob the Builder fix it?

Yes. Famously, he can.

What about Rosa?
Do we still need her signature?

Not now that she's been transferred
to the comms department, no.

You can authorise your own policies.

Oh, my God. At last!

I am the law.

I can do whatever the fuck I want
and no-one can stop me!

That must be why Kim Jong-Un
has that haircut.

Obviously, the main thing we need to
decide upon for next year is our...

- Legacy, yes.
- I was going to say "font", actually...

Henry Kissinger, John Steinbeck,

Amar Gopal Bose,
the founder of Bose.

What do all these people
have in common?

Oh, God - is it marrying
their cousin?

They're all former
Fulbright scholars.

They put their heart and soul
into writing and diplomacy

and, well, noise-cancelling
headphones.

And if I'm going to follow
in their Fulbright footsteps -

and ideally I am -
I have to lead this university

and give them the leader
that they want - no, deserve.

I'm going to stop the rot
and fight for justice, and...

I'm sorry, where are we going?

Yes, exactly! To ask, as a
university, "Where are we going?"

- No, sorry, I meant right now?
Where are we going? - Oh.

I always go the wrong way when
I walk and talk at the same time.

Shit. I've got to sort this out
if I'm going to work in the States.

What is this, please?

This is a mood board.

I'm assembling my dream house
for next year.

Say hello to Hartnell,
the next generation.

Russell Howard is moving in?

Well, no - not THE Russell Howard.
A Russell Howard type.

Someone to cast a wry eye
over the day's news

while we all have breakfast.

Cooked by Ken Hom, presumably?

Yes, yes, exactly, because I thought
it'd be really handy to have a chef.

He will literally spice
things up around here.

A young Kate Bush?

And an old Malala.

Because I thought they'd be like
an uber Vod and Oregon.

It's just a guide,
it doesn't need to be realistic.

No. Apparently, the last room is
occupied by a pretend dinosaur.

Barney the Dinosaur, yes.
A Barney figure.

Someone loud and fun,
someone like JP - just not evil.

Basically, it's a better, newer,
improved version of us.

Right. Feels a bit heartless.

Yeah, well, I'm in a rut, OK?
A big one.

Things have to change around here.

Hmm. And er, who's the new me?

Yeah, no, er...
Except you, because you...

You are... Ken Hom.

What? I'm nothing like Ken Hom.

No, no, he's a TV chef
and you know, he's so...

...upbeat.

"Upbeat"?

Are you saying I'm not upbeat?

I mean, I take your point
about not being a TV chef,

I'm fine with that, I've got
no illusions in that department,

but are you saying I'm downbeat?

Well, just recently, since you
got dumped, you've been a bit...

Oh, I see.

And Ken Hom never gets dumped,
I assume, hmm?

Ken Hom never wonders

if he'll cope with the office
culture at Ordnance Survey?

Ken Hom never stares at his wok

and asks himself why
he even fucking bothers?!

I'm going to do this in my room.

Are you sure you don't
want any pane e olio?

I have McNuggets, thank you.

So, I thought this weekend,
we could go to this deli I found

that stocks every shape
of pasta in existence.

My son is coming to stay with me
this weekend. I'm busy.

Sorry, Kingsley,
I should have told you.

Oh, right. Yeah.

I mean, you probably should
have told me you have a son.

I have a son. His name is Luca.

I didn't tell you because I didn't
know if you could handle it.

I... I can handle it, this is...

This is great,

I think it's great you've got a son.
I actually sort of prefer it.

- What?
- Not prefer, just...

I'm saying, I think it's cool.
Sons are cool.

I'm a son. I like sons.
I'd like to meet him.

OK, well, no. I don't think so.
He's having problems in school.

Well, let me help! Honestly, Rosa,
I know what that's like.

I was bullied when I was eight

and I actually did a bit of
bullying myself when I was 11,

so, you know, I've seen both sides.

As a man - a mature man -
I could get through to him.

Ooh. He's a big bugger, isn't he?

It's not bullying.

He's saying he doesn't
want to go to university.

Right. So, he's what, 18, is he?

But I guess you could talk to him.

Tell him what it's like,
why he should go.

It could be very helpful, actually,

for him to get a perspective of
someone who's doing it now.

Yeah, cool.

Is he stood on some sort of
box or hillock in this?

He's tall, yes.

So you talk to him, Kingsley, yeah?
Tell him why it's important.

Could you maybe keep the noise
down a bit please, Rosa?

This is actually a place of work
and not your kitchen, weirdly -

and even though apparently
I can't have you fired,

I would still quite like the
option of hearing myself speak.

Thanks.

Holy shit!

Kingsley, that's not a step-son,

that's a step-man.

Yeah, he's big.

But I figure it'll be easy
for us to bond if he's 18.

You know, we both love Italy
and we both love music...

Do you know what else 18-year-old
Italian boys really love?

People having sex with their mums.

PHONE RINGS

Pronto?

Oh, not much, just revising, yeah.

Oh, right, really?
You're with Luca now?

K-man's got a son, Vod's got a pub,

Howie's got an oil rig.

What's JP got? Nothing.

Well, maybe cuff-links.

Vod! Will you stop reading, you
bloody egghead? I need cheering up.

You own our house, JP. You're fine.

It's people like me that are fucked.

Us lot at the bottom of the
property ladder, holding it steady

while you bastards climb to the top.

Thanks, Vod. Once again, you're
spot on. I'll think of something.

I mean, look at this - we give
25 grand a year to the rugby club

to fund their aggressively
homo-erotic outdoor cuddling.

We are throwing cash at those who
have it, and bollocks to the rest.

Well, no more.

Yeah, but not all
rugby players are rich.

No offence, but you're Welsh -

and where you're from, A, everybody
loves rugby and B, nobody's rich.

In England, Rugby fans wear
Barbours and drive to Twickers

in their Land Rovers, and
do not deserve Union funding...

Yes, wicked! If this is about
shitting on JP, I'm all over it.

Oh, well, I mean, sort of...

Yeah, it's not fair that rugby
gets more compared to...

judo or poetry or
the Naturists Society.

Did you say "poetry"?

Josie, that's it!

Poetry? That's my noise
cancelling headphones!

- Yes! What?
- I am going to rob rugby to pay poetry.

I am going to cut that bastard sport

like it's getting a crew cut
on the Cutty Sark.

Keep an eye on the bar, Vod.

This is an impressive pub,
to be fair.

I just dried my hands using
two separate Dyson Air-blades.

Yes, and this Randy Dragon Craft IPA
is like drinking a liquid cake.

Another free pint of it
please, your Vodjesty?

I just gave you one.

Yes. And now, I would
like another one.

- Me too please, Vod.
- Yay. Hang on.

Or you can just pop that barrel up
on the bar and we'll help ourselves.

Or we can take it home.

If you can't do it, Vod,
don't worry.

No, no, I can! Of course I can.

I just can't take
the piss, that's all.

- Don't tell me Vod's scared
of getting in trouble. - As if!

Trouble's scared of me, more like!
Right, what we having?

- Smirnoff Ice, please.
- So, that was Rosa. Bit of a situation.

- I am not taking her back, Kingsley.
- No, no, it's not that, it's er...

Her son Luca thinks that he might
not go to university next year,

so I said he could come round ours
to see what it's like.

What what's like?

I guess, being a student,
the whole shared house thing.

What, you mean three years
cohabitating with people you think like you,

and then discover they'd
rather you were Ken Hom?

Oh, Howard, you're making
something out of nothing.

Oh, am I? Well, a bit like
Ken Hom on Ready Steady Cook.

Oh, my God. Vod, can you get
Howard another pint, please?

I'm going to airlift you out of
these doldrums, Howard, as of now.

Coming right up.

So, you'll be nice to him, yeah?

Guys? Show him we're cool,
being at uni's cool...

We're like a six-headed advert
for University right here.

I mean, look at us!

If we can't convince him that being
a student's cool, then nothing will.

OK, great, so I'll bring him
round tomorrow about three, OK?

I am actually auditioning some
potential new housemates tomorrow,

but that should be OK.

Does Luca know that you're
knobbing Mummy bear?

Yeah, er... No, but it's all good,
we've decided not to tell him.

OK, that's mature.

Oh, I see, the woman
drinking Smirnoff Ice

is calling the man drinking
Campari immature.

Nice.

It'll be fine.

I know what I'm doing.

I've whittled it down to four
jobs that I would do.

Number One,

Spy.

Please could I become a spy?

Well, do you speak any languages?

Yeah, this one. English. Ooh,
and I'm really good at accents.

Though I imagine that's
probably not as good.

Let's hear your other ideas.

Tennis umpire.

Brackets, women's.

Three, spaceman...

That's not realistic.

Mmm, yeah - sure,
bloody unmanned probes.

Jonathan, rather than
working through your...

napkin, why don't you tell me
what you'd like to get

out of a future career, and then
maybe we can work backwards.

Sweet.

Erm, well...

first up, my brother would have to
absolutely shit his pants with envy.

If envy can make you do that.

OK, we can come back to that.
What about what YOU need?

What I need?

150, 120 minimum.
Company car...

No, no, I mean emotionally -
what is it that... Sorry,

do you mean ?150,000
when you say 150?

Yeah. Excluding bonuses, obv.

That's not going to happen.

None of the jobs you mentioned
pay anything like that much.

Spaceman, spy - none of them.

Sorry? You think James Bond is
earning less than 150K a year?

He's not real though, is he?

You think he's stood at the bar
flicking through his wallet,

wondering whether he can afford
another Vodka Martini or

if he has to switch to Fosters?
Come on, mate.

The average starting salary for
a UK graduate is currently

just under?22,000, Jonathan.

Well, I'm afraid that
simply won't do.

What does that mean?

What it means is that
I have a lifestyle to maintain.

I am very much a resident
of Easy Street.

My address is essentially number 1,
Easy Street, London.

I need a job that befits that.

A job that is fun, simple
and above all,

extremely well paid.

I'm sorry to say, none of those jobs
are the answer...

I haven't finished!

Four,

head chef.
- Can you cook?

Not really, no.

OK...

OK, so... this is the kitchen.

Er, just ignore Vod,
she won't be here next year.

Unless her exams go really
fucking badly, eh, Vod?

Oh, no - one of my housemates
has left the milk out. Ugh.

You just did that.

I really hate it
when people do that.

Shall I put it back in the fridge?

You do whatever feels right, Helen.

- I'm Helen, by the way.
- Oh, sod this, I can't work under these conditions,

I'm going to the pub.

Cool. I'll see you there in a bit.

What? Will you?

Yeah, I'm, er,
helping Howard to cheer up.

By taking him to the pub at 11am?

I mean, isn't that just a really
fucking terrible idea?

Not when your totally badass
housemate's supplying

all the drinks!

Yeah, Jose, look about that...

Vod is a legend in this house. She
can get you anything you want!

Helen, cup of tea?

Oh, yeah, great - thanks.

It's all out there
and mine's milk with one.

Oh. Hi, sorry.

Hey, Kingsley, just showing Helen
the, er, kitchen.

And getting her to make the tea.

If you want one too...

Oh, yeah, thanks.
Milk, no sugar, please.

Quite a lot of milk though,
so, erm, colour wise,

probably somewhere between beech
and young pine.

Are you tidying down?
That is insane.

Yeah, I just don't want Luca to
think we're, like, squares.

Anyway, what are you doing?
Why is she making you tea?

Look, I've had to put up with
Oregon's scummy tea for three years,

I'm not going through that again.

Anyway, you can tell a lot
about a person by their tea.

Yours, for example,
tastes very selfish.

Here you go.

Erm, I didn't have my wood wall
chart with me, I'm afraid

so I just sort of made yours the
same colour as Jennifer Aniston.

HE LAUGHS NERVOUSLY

Great, thank you.

Thank you!

Ta-da!

Oh, right. Wow.

I'm bringing poetry back.

Hard.

Yeah. Er, what is the prize exactly?

Well, poetry is in many ways
its own prize, Nas.

But specifically, it's?20,000
and a week at a poetry retreat, yes.

Oh, fuck. OK.

But the second prize is only 3.

Yeah, I mean, we can't do that.

Well, we ARE doing it,

I've already commissioned a Perspex
award in the shape of a comma.

No, I mean the money, that's...

And I ordered a massive novelty
cheque like the ones supermarkets

use when they donate to Comic Relief.
- We can't afford it.

There's no way we can give
away that kind of money...

Stop telling me what to do!

I am your leader.

I have been elected to do things,
and things is what I'm going to do.

If Joanna Lumley can build
a garden on a bridge,

then I should have my poetry prize!

?20,000 would make it the most
lucrative poetry prize in the UK.

By five grand.

Good!

No, not good, it's...
We can't afford it.

We can! I've made some cuts.

Some absolute swingers.

No longer will we blindly
fund three bloody rugby teams

for a bunch of loaded,
landed toffs.

The egg-chasers are on their own
and I've issued a press release

that displays that both cleverly
and hilariously.

Yeah, you can't just cut rugby...

Well, I can. I have.
It's done.

Well, they'll crucify you for this.

Perhaps they will. And let's just
say I won't be the first person

to be crucified for trying to do
something good.

Sorry, are you comparing
yourself to Christ now?

No, I am not comparing,
just alluding.

It's a subtle difference and one
that, if you read more poetry,

you would understand.

That's the secret to good boozing.

A sweet spot.

The magic mark where your worries
have gone,

but your faculties haven't,
and boom!

You're one chipper chappy.

Right. And how much would that
normally require?

In my experience, it's almost always
?25, no matter what you buy.

Because, like in terms of quantity
of booze,

?25 sounds quite a lot.

It's fine! The government says
that seven pints a day is fine.

- Do they?
- Yeah.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, probably, yeah.

Look, don't overthink it, OK?

It's easy to know
when to stop drinking,

because your body has
a sort of fail safe, like, erm,

your hand goes all floppy
so you can't hold the glass.

Or your mouth goes weird and the
woman in the offie

can't understand you.

If you think about it, Howie,
you can't really drink too much

because you pass out.

Nature will look after you.

- Yeah. I do feel considerably
more relaxed now. - Yeah!

Damn straight. And we've only
just started.

Two more pints, please, Vod.

Uh, yeah.

Just could one of you
maybe pretend to give me

money in case Reuben's watching?

Oh, my God!

They're coming! Everyone just do
what you'd normally do.

Er, so everyone, this is Luca.

Er, Luca, everyone!

Er...

Just ignore that guy, Luca -
he's just here about renting a room.

OK. So, welcome to the mad house!

Sorry about the mess,
we weren't expecting anyone.

What's your poison, Luca? We've got
wine, we've got beer...

Oh, well, it's only, like, 3pm.
So...

Pimms o'clock! Good man.

No, I just mean, it's quite early.

Not for us, lad,

cos we're on it dawn till dusk.

And, of course, after dusk,
because then it is the evening.

We do also sometimes get our geek
on, despite the obvious party vibes.

It's not all one long,
boozy fuckfest!

But it mainly is.
Erm, you should ask Vod.

She's our resident Gazza!

Right, Vod?

Vod?

Huh?

Yeah, whatever. Can you, er,
keep it down a bit?

I'm trying to do my dissertation.

Yeah, right - good one. Classic!

So, Luca, the word on the street is
that you're after

the 411 of what being
a student is all about?

- Am I right?
- Yeah, sort of.

Well, I'm the President of the Union
here in Manchester,

so I know a thing or two about that.

Are you the one that tried
to fire my mum?

I am, actually, yeah, erm,

but I don't want to go into details,
but I'm afraid

your mother is a traitor.
- Let's not get bogged down in that,

let's just give him a sense
of what it's like, hm?

OK, Luca. You definitely want to go
to university! It's amazing!

Erm, you get really pissed.

You work really hard and you have
sex with people that you

won't like at all, uh,
but in a really fun way.

Yeah, I mean, there's a lot
of faeces that goes along with it,

obviously.

Local people hate you,
the nightlife's jizz,

the societies are fucking lame,
tutors don't give a shit

and you're always broke.

But, er...

...er...

Oh, fuck, I can't remember what
the but was.

- Anyway, I guess it's only three years.
- Yeah.

Sorry, guys, I think my mum might
have given you the wrong idea.

I mean, it's not that I don't
want to go to uni,

it's more that
I just don't see the point.

Go on, this'll be good.

Well, I've had offers from two
places to do Food Science, but I've

no idea if the courses are actually
any good, or what I'll do after.

The only thing I know for sure is
I'll come out of it with

a huge fucking debt
and probably have to

work as a pot-wash in some
kitchen somewhere...

But you'll have a degree, Luca.

That's worth, you know, a lot.

Why, though?

I mean, how's it going to be
useful to me later?

Look, what do you want to do?

Well, erm, I don't know.

Er, perhaps work in radio
or something?

- And you study?
- Geology, yeah.

Well, exactly.

So what's the point?

I mean, how's your Geology degree
going to help you with that?

It's just so you've got some
piece of paper that's cost a huge

chunk of your future earnings,
which will probably be shit anyway.

You never know, he might become
a famous recording artist!

I'm just fucking wit'ya, Kingsley.

Kingsley?

Yes, sorry, no - I just had a tiny
panic attack there.

I mean, no, I see what you're
saying, Luca, but that is wrong.

You do need a degree.

I definitely do. I'm going
to study in the States after this.

That's fine, but you can't do
that forever,

you can't just keep studying.
- Erm, actually, yes, you can.

If you seriously injure someone
in your practical, er, you can

repeat a year.
- But I mean long term, though.

You're putting all this time

and money into a system that might
have nothing for you.

The number of unemployed graduates
are going up,

starting salaries are going down,
UK industries are

out-sourcing, down-sizing.

Do you know they reckon it'll
take 30 years for the average

student to pay off their student loan.
- What?

And that's if you even get a job.

Luca. Sweetheart.

Once I have my Sushi restaurant, you
can come and put the soya sauce

in the little plastic fish
or something.

- What you on about?
- I'm going to be a Sashimi Master.

You got any training in that, then?

No, but I have got
an excellent set of knives.

Cos it takes like, ten years.

Hmm. Ridiculous!

Here is your tea.

Oh, my God, have you left
the bag in?

Is, is that not right?

Get out, you pervert!

The thing is, Luca, university gives
you really valuable life experience

that you wouldn't get otherwise,
at home, or...

Look, I'm going to move to Seoul for
three years, learn Korean

then try and get work out there.
- Do that. Go to Korea.

- Sounds amazing.
- It can't just be that simple though, can it?

I mean, you can't just
"go to Korea".

I don't remember that being
an option on the fucking UCAS form.

- You can't just do that!
- Maybe I should go to Korea...

No, no, no, stop it!
Because this is what you do.

You go to school and then you leave
and you go to uni,

that's... There are, there are,
there are reasons for this.

I haven't just wasted three years
of my fucking life for no reason!

I'd say, if you want to work
in radio,

that you definitely have wasted...

No, no, Luca, just, just...

just shut up!
- JP: Oh, my God!

How can it take ten years to learn
how to cut up a fucking tuna?

But, Geology's safe, it's...

My mum said it was safe.
It is a safe degree.

Rocks are safe.

I think he's going to be sick.
Pass the cone!

Unless, there's something
I'm not seeing, Kingsley.

Unless there's something special
about uni that I don't know...

Yeah, there is actually, mate -

- I'm fucking your mum!

- What?
- Yeah.

You come in here, all clever,

with your thick eyebrows,
and your cool name,

shitting on everything
with your FACTS.

Well, yes,

I am...

in a relationship with your mum,

and I thought now would be a good
and mature time to tell you.

SHOUTING OVER EACH OTHER

MUSIC: Dancing In The Moonlight
by Thin Lizzy

PHONE RINGS

Are you going to get that?

Um, no.

You're going to have to face
her at some point.

I'm also going to have to die at
some point. That doesn't mean

I have to do it now, just because it
has to happen anyway.

When you do speak to her,
can you tell her from me

that her son is an absolute rotter.

Sushi was my last hope.

Now I haven't got that, I'm doomed
to become one of those very

smart tramps that you see
outside a chemist...

Can you shut up, please, JP?

I keep accidentally writing words
you're saying in my dissertation.

I've just called Hemingway a rotter.

Which, thinking about it,
is actually fine.

Oh, everything's fine for you.
You've got a job.

Look at you.
Strutting around with your tea-towel

and your corkscrew like
Deborah fucking Meaden.

You're safe. Us three are fucked.

PHONE RINGS

OK, shit, let's do this...

Pronto.

OK, sorry, fine! Hi!

For the record JP, I'm in a slightly
different Venn.

Given that I'm Union President

and I'm launching an amazing new
poetry prize that's going to

inspire and energise all of us.

I mean, not rubbing it in
or anything,

but my CV is basically bomb-proof.

Whereas mine'll look like a poster
for a lost dog.

Just take the bank job then, JP!

The suit is clearly your destiny.

I can't wear the suit because
I sashimi-ed the suit.

If I put it on I'd look like I was
in an explosion in a cartoon.

Who's up for darts?

I have a 20 pence down payment
on the next game.

Er, Vod, can I have a
Randy Dragon, please?

Er, yeah, I think you've had enough.
Hence why you keep mingling.

Mingling is polite. I am not pissed!

I'm just sociable.

Another beer please, Vod.

Oh, yeah, and another Prosecco
while you're up there.

So how are my new tenants?

Awful. It's like a total fucking
charisma vacuum.

It's like watching Michael Owen
interview Tim Henman.

They're like, "Uh, does
the kitchen have spoons?

"Do the bedrooms have black mould?"
Who cares!

- Fucking saddos!
- Yes, right!

Drunk Howard would be right
in that house next year,

this man here is officially a laugh.

Actually, Vod, I'll have a
Peach Schnapps.

No, you won't, I've just poured you
a beer.

That's all right, I'll have that.

No, you won't, pisshead.
You've got water.

You've got beer.

- But I want Peach Schnapps...
- Well, you've got a beer!

Ooh, she's finally "schnapped"!

HYSTERICAL LAUGHTER

Yeah! "Schnapped" like Schnapps.

- That's funny! I love drunk Howard!
- Hey, mate! That's my 20p!

I'm up next!

- Ooh, Vod? Prosecco?
- I'll take a Whisky chaser.

Right. OK, stop!

Right, all of you!

Enough of this shit.

I am not your personal fucking
drinks servant!

That would be a butler.

Oh, my God, JP, shut up!

Please just fuck off, OK?
I can't handle this.

This job is meant to be easy.

I'm supposed to be revising
and... and...

and eating Wasabi Peas and
trying to earn some money.

Not baby-sitting the bloody Bash
Street Kids. I like this job.

And I need it.

So, yeah, I'm not letting you lot
fuck it up for me.

Right, no more freebies,

no more mates rates.

Party's over, people.

Cough up or piss off.

Hey, guys? Has anyone seen Vod?

I'm looking for my fun friend,

but she appears to have been
replaced by a robot.

Of course it's my 20p,
you total arsehole!

Don't question me, there's an
honour system.

I mean, you start doubting whose
20p it is, it all falls apart.

I mean, I'll do a fucking
fingerprint analysis on it if you want!

- Calm down!
- All right, fine then call the police in!

- Get the forensics boys in.
- Howard, calm down!

SHOUTING

Happy now, you queue-jumping
prick, huh?

Oi! Stop it!

- Off!
- I'm going to contact the bloody ombudsman.

GLASS SMASHES

I think I'm going to be sick.

I'm sorry.

To be fair, you are going out with
me, all he really did was find out.

He didn't "find out", you told him.

Did you even talk to
Luca about University?

- I, I did...
- And, how did that go?

- Well it... What did,
what did Luca say? - He didn't.

He called me a paedophile for 40 minutes
and then he drove back to his father's.

Yeah, OK, it went really well in
that case.

Erm, he had one logistical question
that I wanted to ask you about...

If it turns out that someone
realises that they're doing

the wrong course
and that they actually,

hate it and don't want to work in
it, can they get their money back?

That is so typical Luca.
He never commits to anything.

I know, yeah, so, erm,
if he did drop out,

in his final term, say,
erm, could he, erm,

would he still have to pay
for the full three years?

- Yes, of course.
- What if it was a mistake?

Studying a subject that you hate
for three years is not a mistake.

Yeah, but I think maybe it can be?

No, no. A mistake is like a...
a slipping on ice,

or buying a hat that is too small.

No! You are talking about a
gross error in judgment

followed by years of cowardice.
- I, I suppose I am.

And no-one would expect to
get their money back.

No, no, this would be entirely
Luca's responsibility

and I will insist that he
finish his degree.

What's that? Who is that cheque for?

Uh, it's for someone called
Mr Mind-Your-Own-Fucking-Business,

you don't work for me any more.

Why aren't there more people?

Did you tweet about this?

Yes. Yes, I alerted all of your 27
followers, yeah.

Piece of shit!

Nas, could you do something
about that?

Like what?

Deploy the Student Union tanks?

THUD!

Oh, my God! Oh, my God!

Who's the egg-chaser now?

Fucking hell!

- Nas, do something. Stop it.
- Go on! That's it!

- Nas, do something about this.
- Well, don't open another box!

What's that?

That is Ken Hom's stir-fried chicken
and chilli with basil,

I thought it might help
with your hangover.

Thank you. And er, sorry for being
lairy at your new housemates.

I put them off moving in with me
anyway apparently.

I was, and I quote,
"overbearing and unbearable".

I've decided to send drunk Howard
back to Siberia.

Though he may be more chatty
and better at wordplay than I,

he is nevertheless, a bit of a dick.

- Yeah.
- And while sober Howard faces

a lifetime of struggling to
understand humans and their subtext

and sport,

I kind of know where
I stand with him, as in me.

And I don't hate it.

Hence why I've decided to apply
for the Ordnance Survey job.

Attaboy, Howard!

OK...

Right,

question number one. "Do you thrive
on being relied upon?"

Uh, no.

OK. I'm just going to put "yes"
for that.

Hmm. Question two?

"Reasons for applying?"

Erm, that's an incredibly
complicated question. Erm...

I'm just going to put
"Love of maps".

Six broken glasses,
three broken chairs,

then there's the free drinks...

In total we're talking... 380 quid.

Please don't fire me, OK, Reuben?

I really need this job and, erm...

Nothing like this can ever
happen again.

I'm taking it out of your wages
till you're square.

Thank you, Reuben.

Look, I won't let you down.
I promise.

I'm really looking forward to the
meeting, bro. Big time.

You tell Jonty Bonty that
Prentice Junior is climbing aboard

HMS Moneybags and getting the fuck
out of Dunkirk...

There is just one tiny
problem with the suit.

MUSIC: Crazy Horses
by The Osmonds

I've only gone and done it again!

I have nicked a barrel of beer!

Oi, everyone!

SHE GROANS

- Holy shit! Is that your bath water?
- Randy Dragon.

Little house gift from me. I just
cracked it open like a big egg.

What happened to the whole
"needing a job" thing?

I did, mate. And I told 'em to shove
it up their jacks, didn't I?

Oi, put this bird in a cage

and she will bend the bars with
her beak and nick the cuttlefish.

It's what I do.

She's back...

Everyone!
Vod's back and she's brought booze!

Yes! Vintage Vod!

It's like you read my mind.

Why can I smell beer?

I've tipped a barrel of beer
in the tub, Howard!

On my way!

Oh, God, why have you done this?

I wanted to just have a bath and
just bang out my dissertation.

Pissertation, more like!

Great.

Look we've got a bath of booze
on our hands here,

so you need to get with the fucking
programme, Oregon.

Because this is what being
at university is all about.

Exactly. I wish Luca could see this,
the smug little shit.

Ciao, Luca. Kingsley here.

Er, just to let you know that
being at Uni's really rubbish.

Look we've got a bathful of beer!

CHEERING AND SHOUTING

Oh, no! What a shame!

Good luck getting that in Korea,
you twat.

This is what you're missing out
on, Luca, you lanky bitch!

Hi, Luca! Erm, so...

"Air pollution, particularly
vehicle pollution,

"is an increasing problem in Seoul.

"Cos this can cause minor
respiratory problems

"such as sinusitis,
dry throat and irritated eyes."

So, er, good luck trying to breathe
in Korea, Luca, you idiot!

Erm, Luca, I forgive you
for punching me by the way.

Don't show this to your mum,
please, mate.

I'm going to love it, aren't I?

Tommo says they've got a
free 24 hour canteen,

whisky lounge, sleeping pods
for pulling all-nighters,

so, that'll be fun, won't it?

Fun, worky, boozy sleepovers...

What are you doing?

OK, I need you to stop talking now.

Right, but...

Look, I know I said last time
was the last time,

but it's actually this time.
Definitely.

HE MUTTERS

Sh, sh, sh.

MUMBLING

What?

Can you pop in a cheeky pinkie
again?

Yeah.

MUSIC: Crazy Horses
by The Osmonds

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