The Inbetweeners Movie

So, you see the thing is, Dad, I could reapply next year,

but if I defer and try again for Oxford, I'll probably lose my place at Bristol...

Mm...

...which is a good university, but not my dream.

Do you think this is important in the long term,

or is the subject and standard of degree more important?

So, I got married.

- What?!. - With Suzy, we got married.

You mean remarried.

This time it's for keeps, though.

- When did this happen? - A few weeks ago.

I would gonna invite you, but I know how you are with people around.

How am I?

Awkward. Weird.

I do not live in a basement. Living in the suburbs of London.

I spend my entire life around people.

Much as I'd like to, it's almost impossible to avoid them.

See, this is what I mean.

Well .. It was a great wedding?

No. Couple of hundred close friends and family.

- And it was perfect. - Mm.

I can't believe you didn't invite me to your wedding.

So, what are you up to this summer?

Oh, you're changing the subject?

- Mm-hm. - Fine.

I don't know. I guess I'll be going on holiday.

Oh, this should be good. What have you got planned?

Trans-Siberian Express? Fossil-hunting in Dorset?

Or maybe something even weirder.

No, actually. Something normal. I'm going somewhere normal, with my normal friends,

to a place full of normal people.

And you, of course.

Wahhhhh

Gimme love, gimme love, gimme love

I really need it

Gimme love, gimme love, gimme love

Just set me free, yeah...

In case you were wondering, that was me with my father.

And this is where I live - not with him, but with my mother.

It's a long story. Well, not that long.

He shagged the work experience girl and then left us.

So, just clichd, really.

Plus, it only happened two years ago, so I don 't even get the luxury

of blaming my various personality defects on their divorce.

Anyway, that's how I ended up here - the very definition of suburbia.

Safe, comforting, stifling, boring - and I couldn 't wait to fucking leave.

Maybe that's unfair, as they do say that you never know what goes on

behind the net curtains of suburbia.

Although, in my friend Jay Cartwright's case, you can have a pretty good guess.

Are you ready to have some fun, big boy?

Mmm.

I'm feeling sexy!.

Take off mask, baby, let me see you.

Nah.

Do you promise this'll be properly filthy, yeah?

Oh, yes, like bomb explode from in penis.

Sexy like... mmm... finger up bumhole.

Christ, you make me so erect.

Oh, yes, you also make me erect.

Now, put in card details. Oh, I'm so horny.

Don 't forget security number and bank.

Mm!. Come on, hurry up.

All right, Jay's mum! Where's Jay?

Oh, hello, Neil. He's at home, updating his CV.

Ooh, excuse me.

Hello?

Ohh...

It's a bit over, is that OK?

Not really.

- Excuse me! My prawns? - Sorry, mate, I finish at six.

Cheers for that.

- You don't have to thank me every time. - Oh, right. Cool.

You're so fit.

Simon, we need to talk.

Oh, not talking!

- Look, it's been great so far... - It's been amazing.

Literally the best year of my life. My spots clearing up, not moving to Wales,

and now you.

And I'm definitely getting better at kissing, aren't l?

I think we should break up.

What?

We're both going away to uni soon,

and it'll be too hard to keep it going long-distance.

- It won't be fair on either of us. - I don't mind.

You will mind, though. You will.

I bloody won't!

Plus, I'm going on holiday soon, so there's that.

Why? What are you planning to do on holiday?

Maybe you should just go home.

I just need some space to think at the moment.

OK, fine. So, I'll see you later, yeah?

Or whenever?

Mum, I'm back! When's tea?

- In a minute. - It had better be delicious!

Ohhh...

- Ooh! - Oh, oh!

Tell me you love me. Tell me you love me.

Oh, yes, I like you. Oh, I like you.

Get out! I'm just looking at holidays! It's just holidays!

Jay, can you come downstairs, please? Your grandfather's died.

Ooh, you've got a lady there, you bad boy!

Has she got nice titties? Suck on the lady's titties. Suck them, go on!

It was our last ever day of school,

something my new stepmum had experienced only four years ago herself.

So the head of Sixth was going to say a few inspirational words.

And if ever there was a man for the job, it wasn 't lunatic giant Mr Gilbert.

I will forget each and every one of you almost immediately.

So, if you do find yourself at a loose end next year,

and think it might be nice to pop in and see how we're getting on,

don't. This isn't the Dead Poets Society

and I'm not that bloke on BBC Two who keeps getting kids to sing in choirs.

I especially don't want to hear about how well you're settling down at uni

or how much growing up you've done in the past 12 months.

At best, I am ambivalent towards most of you,

but some of you, I actively dislike,

for no other reason than your poor personal hygiene

or your irritating personalities.

I hope I've made myself clear on this point.

And in case any of you think I'm joking... I'm not.

I assure you that once my legal obligation

to look after your best interests is removed,

I can be one truly nasty fucker.

Good luck with the rest of your lives and...try not to kill anyone.

It reflects very badly on all of us here.

Slightly more upbeat than I was expecting.

They say your school days are the best days of your life.

But the only way that would be true for me

would be if I went straight from school to prison and stayed there until I died.

How many times is that she's caught you now?

Four. But this was the worst.

Mask, snorkel, ham.

OK, one last one for luck.

Ooooh!

Good. Old-school wedgie. To be admired, in a way.

Squashing the balls now. Ooh! That does not tickle!

Argh!

Mark! What the fuck do you think you're doing? Put him down.

All right, calm down.

Just saying goodbye to Bender Squad.

- Have a nice life, dickheads. - Oh, grow up! God!

- Are you OK, Will? - Fine! Slightly chafed arse crack,

- but, no, basically fine, thanks. - Hi, Simon.

OK, well, bye, then.

Fucking bitch.

Is she?

No.

Oh, God... I just really miss her.

It's all right, mate. I understand. Anyone would miss those tits.

- It's not that, Neil. - Is it her lovely snatch?

- No. - I know it feels rough now, Si,

but you just need to give it some time.

I'm just worried I'll never get over her.

- I can help you with that! - Can you?

Yeah! From now on, every time you mention the Moanatronic 5000,

- you get a slap in the balls. - Do you mean Carli?

Ow! For fuck's sake, Jay!

- You were warned. - How's that helping?!

Stopped you from crying like a baby, for one.

So my life is still ruined, but now my balls ache too. Thanks, Jay!

No, your life is just about to begin, mate!

Now you've been dumped, we can all go on a mental holiday together.

Two weeks of sun, sea, sex, sand, booze,

sex, minge, fanny and tits.

And booze.

And sex!

He's put it horrifically, but he's probably right.

A holiday would definitely take your mind off her.

Plus, it's the perfect time to go.

Yeah, they say the summer is the perfect time for a summer holiday.

Come on, Si, what do you say? The lads on tour!

- And you. - Yes, and me! One of the lads.

Yeah, fuck it, go on, then. Maybe it will help.

Course it will! And, I promise you, Si,

we'll go somewhere so full of fit birds, it'll be like shooting clunge in a barrel.

What a lovely image!

So, that was it. We were no longer schoolboys.

And to prove our independence,

we were off on the holiday of a lifetime without our parents...

after we'd made them pay for it.

I know this is the first time you've ever been away from me, but don't go crazy.

When have I ever gone crazy?!

That time you drank all that shandy at Debra's wedding. You went pretty wild!

- I was seven years old! - He was running round, his pants down,

shouting, "I've got a white slug!"

- Mum! - Oh, hello, Kevin!

Looks like just Jay we're waiting for, then.

Yes, it does "look like" that, doesn't it? God! Sorry about her.

Are you all right, Neil? Your face is a bit weird.

Fine! Just popped a bit of my sister's fake tan on, get it started, you know.

Just on your face?

Well... It's on my hands now too.

All right? Who's this, then, the vicar?

Me? No, no, I'm Kevin. I'm Neil's father. Nice to meet you.

Where's Neil been hiding you, then? The church?

- Looks like a bloody vicar, don't he? - No, no, I'm not a vicar.

No, I know that. But you look like a vicar and you talk like a vicar.

A bloody gay vicar, or something!

Well, I'm not a vicar and I'm not gay.

No, I'm saying you look gay.

But you can't be, can you? Cos old soppy bollocks here come out your pipe.