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The Inbetweeners S03E02
"The Gig and the Girlfriend"

Sync & corrections: extreme

Jay was full of helpful tips,

and this morning's were about how to make
the most of the space in your caravan.

So I had one bent over the table here,
there was one up here I was fingering,

and I was just toe-fucking
the one on the floor.

Whilst your parents were sleeping
in bunk beds just over there?

It's amazing how good
you are with birds, Jay.

What can I say? It's a gift.

So when do we get to meet
these three lucky ladies?

- They've gone back to the Playboy Mansion.
- Of course,

because if you lived in the Playboy Mansion,
you'd definitely holiday in Great Yarmouth.

They did. I told you you should
have come on holiday with us, Si.

I don't want made-up Playboy models.

I just want a nice girlfriend
who'll maybe have sex with me.

I read in my sister's Grazia
that birds like it if you ask 'em questions.

If you wanna get a girlfriend,
you should probably try that.

- Really?
- Yeah, that works,

Of course, the only question I ask is
"Which hole do you want it in first?"

- Great, thanks.
- What are you lot up to?

Is Jay showing you where he
used to shag the cushions?

He thinks me and his mum
don't know about that.

- Come on, Dad.
- We had to replace the covers twice.

Jay was telling us about
the birds he pulled in Norfolk.

- Oh, right, was he?
- You remember, right, Dad?

Well, he's a total bullshitter, then,
'cause the only pussy

he's ever touched was
his mum's when he fell out of it!

See you later.

He's such a wind-up merchant.

So with Mr Cartwright confirming that Jay
hadn't hosted an orgy on the fold-out table,

we began to question
a few other things he'd said.

- What else have I ever said that's bullshit?
- That your mate can squeeze himself

- into a microwave?
- Yeah, a good-sized one.

That your dad fought Muhammad Ali
as an amateur and beat him.

- It was on a points decision.
- Those were just this morning. I could go on.

- Wankers.
- His fag smelt funny.

Holy shit! Was Donovan
smoking drugs? In the open?

- On a school day?
- Don't shit yourself, Talk To Frank.

It's just a bit of puff.
Everyone does a bit of puff.

Do they? It's just that I don't, you
don't and nor does anyone we know.

What are you talking about?
I do it all the time!

- Do you?
- Yes, but not with you saddoes.

- I do it with my older mate.
- Has this imaginary mate got a name?

Look, I go round his, we get nicely stoned
listening to music, bit of reggae,

or we go to gigs.
Everyone does it at gigs.

Just pass the puff around,
share the love. The birds love it.

Is it true it makes
your teeth feel funny?

Yeah, but I'm hardcore, so
it doesn't really affect me.

Yes, the effects are lessened if
you only pretend to take it.

Not that I have to prove anything,
but the other day we got his dog stoned

and it got the munchies,
so it ran away for an hour.

When it came back, it had nicked a packet
of Hobnobs from the all-night garage.

- What does that even mean?
- All you need to know is,

I can get as much gear as you like,
whenever you like.

- I don't want any, ever.
- When you think about it, everything's drugs.

- No, not really.
- Yeah, beer, Disprin,

coffee, trainers,
chicken nuggets, clingfilm...

Right, I've got to go.

...plants, clothes, car tyres,

- calculators, wasps.
- That's right.

- Simon's off to get his fix now.
- Si's doing drugs?

Yeah, he's addicted to crack, Neil.
Carli's crack.

Oh, yeah! Nice one.

I'm not an expert, but here's a tip:

Don't literally run after
a girl you fancy.

It makes you look needy.
And unless they're desperate or mental,

it won't work.

- Oh, sorry.
- It's OK.

- I really didn't mean to sit on you.
- No, cos that would be weird.

Yeah! Yeah. Totally.

- Are you in the Lower Sixth?
- Yeah. You've probably never noticed me before

because I've just dyed my hair
and suddenly grown a pair of tits.

- I'm Simon, by the way.
- I know. Tara.

- What are you reading?
- The NME.

I hate it, it's always wrong.
It's basically shit.

- Still doesn't stop me buying it every week.
- Right. Every week?

- Yep.
- So you buy it every week?

- Yeah.
- Not every week, though?

- Yes, every week.
- So every week?

Are you broken?
Have you got a head injury?

- So you're into music, then?
- Yeah, massively.

I'd die without Spotify,
and I love going to gigs.

- Oh, yeah, the same.
- The same what?

- Same as what you said.
- Right.

So have you been
down the Enterprise?

Just trying to... Enter...

The've loads of brilliant
up and coming bands.

Can't quite...
I don't know.

- I just...
- It's cool if you haven't.

- No, don't think so.
- Well, you should. It's awesome.

There's this band playing Friday,
Failsafe, they're amazing.

- Me and a mate are going.
- Sounds cool. I love gigs.

I went to a big gig last year.

My mum took us to see Take That
at Wembley Arena.

Yeah, it was good, yeah.
We were quite far back,

sort of on the side, but they were awesome.
My mum went mental for it.

Well, to be honest,
I don't think you'd like Failsafe.

It's a slightly different vibe
to Take That.

Oh, no, I would. I love all vibes.
Failsafe, Take That...

reggae.

I'd love to come. And I'll
even bring the puff if you like.

Drugs?

- I didn't think that was your scene.
- Didn't you? No, when I'm at gigs

I always pass the puff around,
share the love.

Really?

Yeah. I'm pretty cool like that, but
I try and keep it on the down-low.

- Wow. Well, you're doing a great job.
- Great.

I'll see you Friday, and I'll
bring enough spliff puff for everyone.

- Even enough for your mum?
- No.

No, she won't be there.
Stupid bitch!

But I'll be there,

with the drugs.

Why the fuck did you say
you'd bring drugs? You don't do drugs.

- I know, but she's fit and I panicked.
- So you're going to supply her,

like a pimp to a drug-addled prostitute.
Is that what you've become?

Calm down, Will, it's just a bit of
puff, everyone does it.

Jay, you can sort me out, right?

- Slight problem on that front.
- What, in the past 15 minutes?

Yeah, my mate's fucked off
on a gap year to Afghanistan,

- trying to get some pure shit from source.
- Of course he has.

Thanks a fucking bunch!
Will's right, you are total bullshitter.

Don't blame me!
Drug dealers are unreliable.

- You could ask Donovan, Jay.
- Unless you're scared of him.

Of course not! I've had a toke
with Mark untold times.

I sort him out with Rizla and ting.

So you're a newsagent now,
as well as a liar?

All right, I'll ask Donovan. Then
tomorrow night, when, thanks to me,

we're watching Simon get balls-deep
in Tara, we'll see who the liar is.

Fine, we will.

Probably be a bit weird
if you two are there.

I don't know what Donovan was smoking,
but it made him spread butter like a maniac.

- What if he throws the toaster at you?
- Why would he do that? We're mates.

- Are you?
- Sort of.

What the fuck are you two queers
doing, checking out my arse?

- Come on, let's go.
- Nah, we just wanted a word.

- Prick. There's a word.
- Right. Sorry.

We wanted to ask if you
could sort us some puff?

- Have you lost your retarded minds?
- Jay's mate's in Afghanistan.

- What?
- Nah, look, we'll pay.

How much have you got?

About 20 quid.

All right, I'll do you
a special Team Twat deal.

There you go.

- Nah, come on.
- What?

- Come on, seriously, Mark, that's...
- Puff.

No, it's tea. Like normal tea.
We just saw you empty the bags.

Are you calling me a liar?
You disrespecting me?

No, it's just that, you know,
you did it in front of us.

I'm going to give you
a chance to apologise.

- Right, yeah, no, sorry. But...
- But what?

- Nothing.
- And?

Thank you for the puff.

Don't smoke it all at once.

It was the night of
Simon's date with Tara,

and to mark the occasion,
he'd dressed like a dick.

- Are you actually going to wear that?
- Yes.

- Interesting.
- Look, if I'm gonna get a girlfriend,

I'm going to have to try a different
plan than the one I had for Carli.

Was there a plan? I thought you just
lurched from one disaster to another.

I know what I need to do with Tara.
Just pretend to be someone that I'm not,

that I go to gigs, wear hats,
and most importantly,

sort out D-R-U-G-S.

- My mum's in.
- So?

- She can spell.
- You two look smart. Where are you off to?

We're going to pick up Neil.
Then we're going to a gig.

A gig? Wow.

Yeah, I remember my first gig.
INXS, Hammersmith Odeon.

One of the band went off stage, then came
back on a skateboard. We all screamed.

Yeah, looking back,
I'm not sure why he did it.

- We're going to go now.
- Well, have fun,

and if anyone does offer you
any D-R-U-G-S, be careful.

- What?
- I overheard you.

It's OK, petal, I know boys will be boys,
but I can trust you to do the responsible thing.

Very lucky to have you,
because you're so boring.

- Boring?
- Well, not boring.

- Just scared of things.
- Scared?

Sensible. That's the word
I'm looking for. Sensible.

You're very sensible, so I don't
have to worry about you as much.

- Because you're so scared.
- Thanks, Mum.

Instead of D-R-U-G-S,
Jay had bought P-G T-I-P-S,

which he'd spent the last hour
failing to roll up into a joint.

I can't believe you're
going through with this.

Come on, Will,
it's just a "leetle spleef".

Is that meant to be funny?
Is that drug humour?

All right, Cliff Richard!
If you don't like it, fuck off.

No, I'll stay. And laugh at you.

Jay, I've heard smoking's well bad for you.
Can't we just make tea with it?

No.

You can't make tea with this
type, remember, Neil?

Oh, yeah.

- Why not?
- Because...

it's stronger if you eat it.

- We could bake it into chocolate brownies.
- Cool. Delicious.

- Who knows the recipe?
- Nigella Lawson?

We haven't got time to fucking bake cakes.
My dad'll be here to pick us up in a minute.

- I want to try it before I meet Tara.
- I can cook toast. And eggs.

What about putting it in
egg on toast? Would that work?

- Might do.
- Drugs on eggs on toast?

Are you not worried it might lead
to harder stuff? Beans on toast,

- maybe a sausage?
- Or I can make jelly?

Right, fuck it,
I'm brewing some hash tea.

The one thing Jay didn't want
Simon to do with the tea was make tea,

because he'd find out it was tea.

I told you, Si,
there were supply issues.

The main issue being
Donovan supplied you with tea.

And so refreshed,
but in no way high,

Simon headed for
his date with Tara.

You lot seem very quiet tonight.

Well, it's better than
hearing non-stop bullshit.

Language.
What's that on your head, Simon?

Oh, I don't know, Dad. Oh, yeah,

it's a hat. Obviously. God!

- Looks bloody stupid.
- We tried to tell him.

- You look like a butcher.
- Pete Doherty wears them, actually.

Pete Doherty's butcher wears them.

I forgot you were a comedian
as well as a cab driver.

Oi! I'm doing you a favour.
Why are you wearing it?

You've never worn
anything like that before.

- He's meeting a bird.
- Knew it. You've got that look in your eye.

- What?
- An animal look.

I've seen it when you
watch TV, X Factor and that.

- What, when he sees Louis Walsh?
- Funny.

No, thankfully, Cheryl Cole.

If his mum's in the room,
he pops a pillow over his lap.

It wasn't exactly Wembley Arena,

but the Enterprise had everything
you want from a local music venue

bar staff who didn't ask for ID,
a worrying lack of fire exits

and a horrific smell from the toilets.

- Can you see Tara anywhere?
- Just follow the puddles,

- she's that fucking wet for you.
- Can you hear something?

I can smell bullshit,
but I can't hear anything.

- Stop being a baby.
- Simon, I think it's probably for the best

that you don't have any drugs.
I'm sure Tara will understand.

- Have you got a girlfriend?
- No. You know that.

Then you excuse me if I don't
give a shit what you think.

You can share mine,
if you like, Si, I've got some tabs.

What? Like LSD?

Nah, I nicked my dad's
sleeping pills.

Apparently, if you mix them
with Ribena, red wine and cough mixture,

- it gives you a well good buzz.
- Is the buzz crippling stomach acid?

Oh, yeah, it's good, that.
Mix in some Lucozade as well.

Gives it a more crunchy buzz.

Thanks, Neil, but Tara's expecting
me to have some puff, so I'm fucked

- because someone is a bullshitter.
- Fucking hell!

If you're going to be so menstrual,
I'll go and score some shit here.

- Oh, yes, off you go to "score", Scarface.
- I will. You coming, Neil?

Yeah, all right. Get us a
Ribena and wine, Si? Half and half.

- It's got to be quite pacific.
- Specific.

Fucking Simon, I have
to do everything for him.

He'll probably want me to
bone that girl for him.

- Show her how it's done properly.
- Exactly. So when you do it,

- do you do more like bump or grind?
- What?

I was just thinking about
whether it's best to bump or grind,

cos you can only do one or the other,
when you think about it.

Nah, not me, mate. I do both.
And I slap.

- They all love a slap.
- You're not bullshitting me, are you?

- Neil, come on, mate!
- Sorry. It's just you keep saying

you can get loads of drugs, and so far
the only drugs you've got is tea...

Neil, don't, all right?
Just don't. OK?

I haven't scored any gear yet because
where am I supposed to get it from?

My mate's in Afghanistan. I can't help that.
And there's no-one here dealing.

What about him?

Shit. Right. Yeah.

- You going over, then?
- Yes.

You'd better come too.
You know, as muscle.

Right, cool.

Look hard. This might get tasty.

- Oh, can I have some gum?
- I ain't got any, I'm pretending.

- All right, mate?
- All right?

My mate wanted to say
something to you.

Yeah?

- Sort me out, geezer.
- What?

Please sort me out, geezer?

- I've got 20.
- So what? What do you want from me?

You know, gear.

Sweet Mary Jane. Ganja, man.

Oh, so you want to buy drugs?
And you came to me. Why?

- Well, cos we saw you...
- 'Cause I'm black?

You saw a black guy at a gig
and thought, "Must be a drug dealer"?

- No, we didn't...
- You fucking white boys are all the same.

Scratch beneath the surface,
and you're racist.

Yeah, that's right, I said it. Racist.

- But have you got any drugs?
- Yes, I have, but that's not the point.

The point is, you assumed
I had some just cos I'm black.

- Could we buy some, please?
- Why should I deal to you?

Why should I deal
to two little suburban racists who

see me as some kind of stereotype?
I'm at university.

- But you are a dealer as well?
- Yes, I do deal,

- but you keep missing the point.
- Look,

here's 30 quid.
Can we just have some puff?

Yes, you can,

but only because I'm a dealer,
not because I'm black.

Now fuck off.

Can you roll it up for us, please?

If ever there was an advertisement
for drugs not being cool,

Jay was it.

My first gig was in full swing,
and as Simon searched for his date,

I was enjoying it, in a way.

Do you like the taste of beer?
I don't know if I do, actually.

- What the fuck's this?
- What? Oh, hi.

Didn't realise Pete Doherty
was coming along.

- Is he?
- No, I mean you, you twat.

- Oh, right, because of the hat?
- No, because you fucked Kate Moss.

Obviously, it's the hat.
Hi, I'm Will.

Are you the guy who
shit himself in the exam?

Yep. Now, Tara, don't you think it's just cool
here? Great vibe, no need to drink too much

or take anything to make it better.
Could not get better, could it?

- Jay's sorted it.
- No way?

Yep, no bullshit, he's totally done it.
The man even rolled one up for us.

- Cool!
- Yeah, course.

- He's waiting outside.
- I don't want to be a killjoy,

but I just think you should remember
that what you're about to do is illegal.

So's doing bombs in the
swimming pool, but I do that

because it's fun, yeah?
Come on, Simon.

Technically, that's not illegal.

I didn't know which was worse:
That my friend was about to do drugs

just to impress a girl,
or the smug look on Jay's face.

- Here we go, boys and girls.
- Cool.

- Nice.
- So you've actually got it, then?

Look, when I say I'm gonna deliver,
I fucking deliver.

- Like a postman with Tourette's.
- Right, who's first?

- I've never done it before.
- Haven't you?

No, go on, Simon, show me how.

Maybe Jay should go first
because he sorted it. Only fair.

Nah, I'm cool. Taking a breather.

I smoked one the size of a parsnip
whilst I was waiting for you latecomers.

Or maybe ladies first?
So that is you.

No, I'm nervous! Go on.

OK. All right, I suppose.

I couldn't really blame Simon. If I thought
a fit girl like Tara might get off with me,

I'd probably mainline
heroin into my eyeball.

Great, that was really great.
Here you go.

What? You didn't even inhale.

You've got to take it right in
like a cigarette.

Oh, yeah, I know.

No, Sometimes I do it that way
cos it just gets your

cheeks nicely stoned, but...

I'll have a go your way.

That definitely went in that time.
Right in the lungs.

- Tara?
- Cool.

How are your cheeks feeling now?
Have they got the munchies?

- Can I have a go, please?
- Oh, right, sorry.

This is cool. Just us here,

smoking a foul doobie.

Oh, yeah, hanging out by some bins
near a skip in the cold,

doing drugs. Oh, it's very cool.
Very cool indeed.

Yeah, that is good weed. Neil?

No, I'm all right,
I've got my sleeping tabs.

- What about the Ribena and wine?
- I had that earlier.

It all gets mixed up in my tummy
anyway, so it should be all right.

What about you, Just Say No?
Or are you still too scared?

Oh, yes, I'm scared. Scared that you three
won't think I'm cool enough

to hang out with any more.
Oh, no.

Oh, no, Failsafe!
Shit, we can't miss them.

No way, Jose!

- Come on, then, guys.
- No, you're all right, Jose.

I was questioning my beliefs.

If winners don't do drugs,
how come Simon was off with lovely Tara

whilst I was stuck with two morons,
half a lager and a bottle of cough syrup?

I'm definitely feeling something now.
This is good weed.

Might try and get a shipment in
for Glastonbury.

Yes, I mean, it's the next logical step from
buying a small amount for you and a friend,

- dealing to 70,000 people in a field.
- All right, all right. Keep it down.

- You never know who's listening.
- Who?

Old Bill, undercover bacon.

These places are usually crawling with filth.
I've got to keep on my guard.

I think I'm coming up.
How many singers are on stage?

- It looks like five.
- Ask Professor Downer, he'll know.

Just because you've had a puff on your
first joint doesn't make you Kurt Cobain.

Look, if you want to be a mummy's boy, that's
fine. But stop trying to bring us down, man.

Am I a mummy's boy because
I refuse to bow to peer pressure,

- or am I in fact the opposite?
- You're a mummy's boy.

Go on, petal, have a puff.
Show us you're not scared.

I would, but I don't actually smoke because...
what's that thing you get when you smoke?

- Sex?
- No, cancer, Neil.

- Fine, eat it, then.
- I could do,

but as I keep explaining, I have
no interest in getting, as you say, high.

I feel brilliant.

Well, from the outside you seem
basically the same, but a bit more boring.

It's all right, Neil, he's scared.

Course, scared.

Give it here, then.

Right, happy now? So you can shut up about
how you like to chase the bloody dragon.

I've had some,
I feel fine, let's move on.

Fucking hell, not all of it!
You've eaten all of it.

Yes, so in my life I've had even more drugs
than you, and I still think it's pathetic.

I told you to keep that on
the down-low. He looks federal.

So while I tried to work out
what "federal" meant,

Simon was experiencing
moshing for the first time,

which is a bit like being
beaten up to music.

This is so fucking cool!

Yeah, fucking cool.

Easy, mate.

Bit aggressive, but cool.

Simon, you've got to mosh,
or they'll crush you!

Oh, right, that's what we do, is it?

Are you all right, Tara?

Oh, my nose!

Back at my MENSA meeting,
things were starting to happen.

Tuesday, then, yeah?

Are you all right, Neil?

- You're dribbling.
- Yeah, thanks.

You can have it back Tuesday.

When it came to killing off brain cells,
Neil had very little room for manoeuvre.

Meanwhile, Tara being a
combination of stoned and concussed

- was working in Simon's favour.
- Is your nose OK?

My nose is OK, but I
still feel a bit queasy.

If I see the bloke that
did it I'll... grrr, you know.

You'll what?

- Dunno.
- Did you say "grrr"?

I think I did.

I'll "grrrr"!

- Like a tiger.
- I'm Tony the Tiger.

More!

I'm sure pretending to be a big cat
or a slow-moving robot

wasn't the standard reaction
to doing drugs,

but I would have taken either of those
over what was going on in my head.

I don't want to sound mental,

but I'm starting to feel
a bit like I'm in a bubble.

Is this what being high is?
Do you feel like you're in a thick bubble?

Nah, it's cool.
I feel pretty nice, like

up but down but chilled
but ready to do it.

Oh, God, this isn't good.
I feel unusual.

Why did you let me eat it? Why?

- My arms feel odd.
- Oh, just shut up, enjoy it.

Jay, I think I'm going wrong.

Time is going by really, really,

really, really slowly.

You need to call
an ambulance right now,

because I can't use the phone. My arms
don't work, and my hands are sausages.

- Fuck off.
- Jay, I'm serious.

You feel miles away.
I think I might be dying.

What if I'm a dead person?
Please call an ambulance.

I can't call an ambulance,
because they'll bring the fucking police

and I'll get done for dealing.
And with looks like this, if I go to prison

- my anal virginity won't last a day.
- But...

- my hands?
- I'm not calling an ambulance,

so stop being a baby
and just ride it out.

Oh, God.

Neil, Neil! You've got to help me.

Everything's going flat,
and I think I might be dead.

Help me! I'm getting
random arm movements!

Sleepy time. Sleepy time.

So I couldn't rely on Neil,
but I knew one thing for sure:

I had to stop my fucking arms.

- Can I say something?
- I don't know, can you?

You just did, so probably yes.

OK, clever clogs,
can I do something?

Depends what it is.

Tara, what did you want to do?

This.

I feel sick. It's got to be the joint.
I shouldn't have done it.

Right. Maybe stick your fingers
down your throat,

try and get it all up,
and then we can go again?

Yeah. I think I can make it
to the toilet. Don't move.

Listen, Simon,
this is very important information.

Call an ambulance,
and tell them I'm in a bubble

- and everything is very flat.
- I'm a bit busy here, Will,

- can you look after yourself?
- I can't stop my arms.

Look how random my arms are.

Help me!

Look, I'm in here, Will.
Can you please fuck off?

Didn't make it.

I needed help. Jay was useless.
Neil was getting an early night,

and Simon was too busy
licking vomit off Tara's tonsils.

I really needed help.

How could I get help?

Hello.

Hello, everyone.

Can somebody call me an ambulance?

Because I'm in trouble.

Time is moving really, really
slowly,

and everything is flat.

I need you to call me an ambulance,

or failing that, my mummy.

I really want my mummy because,

and I'm not being dramatic,

but I think I might be dead.

Is that clear?

Mummy, or ambulance.

I don't remember the details
of that night especially well,

but I do know that despite
their love of violence,

the bouncers were
surprisingly kind to me,

which could only mean
I looked proper mental.

- Are you sure it was just cannabis you took?
- I ate it. I'm really sorry.

Is my mummy coming?

- Can you make my arms stop?
- We'll do our best.

- Whagwan?
- Someone called an ambulance,

- and they're taking him away.
- Oh, fucking Jesus, oh, no.

It wasn't me that sold it, right?
Not me.

- Oh, shit, the blue lights.
- It's an ambulance.

That's what they want you to believe!

It had been a week of firsts.
Our first gig.

Our first drugs.
The first time we had to admit

Jay had delivered on
one of his bullshit claims.

Simon's first actual girlfriend.
And the first time

I spent two days in bed silently crying
and trying to make the walls stop moving.

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