The Riot Club (2014) - full transcript

I think you have the wrong room.

That, sir, is my wife.

Uh-huh, I must apologise.

Nothing in her conduct made me think she'd
ever been satisfied before.

A-ha.

Gentlemen.

We are here to honour our friend,
Henry Sebastian Aldershot,

Seventh Duke of Carlisle,

known to us as Lord Riot.

The best scholar
at the world's greatest university.

He did nothing without joy,



and everything to excess.

Wingspan! This is, gentlemen, key.

A true hedonist,
who dazzled us with debauchery.

His appetites knew no earthly bounds.

No man was better loved by all he met,

nor gave his time more generously.

Get down, get down!

We thought to see him
Lord Chief Justice one day.

But you live by the sword,
you die by the sword.

And, friends, Lord Riot died this morning.

- Legend.
- Mmm.

He will not be forgotten.

- He will not.
- Ever.

We will gather the brightest,



the boldest and the best

to eat till we are sick at
the full table of life,

and never to fade from glory.

And we will call ourselves

the Riot Club.

The Riot Club!

- I am an alumnus of this college...
- I'm terribly sorry, sir.

- Dad, the other one's fine.
- That room is minute.

- You couldn't swing a kitten.
- Mum...

Let Daddy sort it out, Alistair.

I'm sorry, I think this is me.

This was my room, and
my elder son's room till last year...

I don't mind swapping,

if this one has sentimental value.

There we are. Isn't that nice, Alistair?

- Well, it's very decent of you.
- No worries.

Follow me, then.

What if I don't want Seb's old room?

Your brother was top dog in this college

and you want to live in a rabbit hutch?

Just on the left here.

And it's that one there.

You'll find it hasn't got a Jacuzzi.

I'm sure it's fine.

Oh, shit!

We used to make things up there,
now we just sell things.

But don't businesses sink or swim,
if an industry's become untenable?

So why did we bail out the banks, then?

It's different, isn't it?

- You're talking about manufacturing...
- Oh, do you want some?

- Sorry, I'm Lauren.
- Miles.

- They're serving champagne?
- No, I brought it.

I thought, you know, big day.

What, is it plonk?

No, no, it's lovely.

Mate, I'm sorry you ended up
in the prison block...

- Ah...
- My father is...

- Are you in the new building?
- Yeah.

I'm in the new building.

Actually, the New Building
is the Palladian style one

they built in the 1700s next to the chapel.

There weren't any girls
at your school, were there?

Don't worry, they're just
like us, but cleverer.

Nice cape, by the way.

Thanks.

- Versace.
- Is it now?

- Mm-hm.
- Oh, I could tell.

Oh, the innocence.

Is my gown inside out, am I brighter,
sexier, funnier than I was at school?

You were a fresher once.

- Care to join me in a game of Spot the Virgin?
- Too easy.

It'll be a damn sight harder by tomorrow.

- Amazing up here, isn't it?
- Mmm.

I swear, being in Oxford, it's...

It's like being invited to 100 parties,
all at once.

And I wanna go to all of them, you know?

Yeah.

I mean, look at this.

We are so lucky.

My dad cried, you know, when I told him
I got into Oxford.

Maybe it was just the tuition fees.

See, my dad would've cried
if I hadn't got into Oxford.

My whole family come here.

My little brother, he's
13 and he can't wait.

Miles, are you posh?

Just normal.

You've got quite a posh name.

Miles Davis.

My parents were listening
to Kind of Blue when I was conceived.

Good job my parents didn't do that,
they'd have named me Gary Barlow.

- So where did you go to school?
- Uh, Westminster.

Oh, so not posh at all, then.

I've got a bottle of
tequila back in my room

if you wanted to come back after...

Let's not spend three years avoiding
the person we shagged in Freshers' Week.

Lady Marmalade.

Oh, I know. Look at you. I know.

It's not long, I'll be back for Christmas.

- Here you go.
- Thanks, Mummy. There you are.

- Bye, Mummy.
- Bye, darling.

- Balfour, let me give you a hand there.
- Oh, thanks, mate, hello there.

- Back to school, isn't it? Thanks ever so.
- Yeah.

Listen, Balfour, am I right in thinking
you might be a member of the Riot Club?

Well, you know, not supposed to say really,

cloak and dagger, and all that.

Yeah, well, it's just...

I was wondering how I might
go about applying for membership.

Yes.

Um, the thing is...

And I'm terribly sorry about
this, but I'm afraid if you've got to ask,

you're not really the right sort of chap.

Right.

Guard, ready. Fence.

Come on.

- Darling.
- Does this hurt?

Gosh, is he OK?

You have no difficulties
with the time frame?

None, absolutely none.

And I'm keen to start an internship straight
after my finals, don't need a holiday.

You're not the son of Jonty
Leighton-Masters, are you?

My father casts rather a long shadow.

I want to strike out on my own,
start at the bottom somewhere.

I'm just very passionate

about corporate finance.

Good luck, guys.

Mate, club meeting.
Can you do the pub tonight at, urn...

- Oh, yeah.
- What are you doing?

Sort of a post-match debrief.

Right. OK, 7:30, pub, can you do it?

I'll be there.

I just find it really annoying when people
ask me what school I went to.

- Yeah. Oh, I hate it.
- I know, I hate it. Yeah, so much.

Which school did you go to?

I just went to a normal school in Cardiff.

- Oh, I've been to Cardiff.
- Oh, fantastic.

I love the Welsh.

- Where did you guys go?
- Eton.

Oh, oh my God, oh my God!

Um, OK, how do you make an Eton Mess?

Tell him he only got into Bristol.

My best friend's at Bristol.

It's a very good university.

Hmm.

Uh, so I've... OK.

- Anyway, why didn't you get a Lamborghini?
- I'm not...

Mate, he's Greek,
he's doing austerity measures.

- This is a beautiful British car.
- Poop poop!

OK, guys, so we got Club dinner coming up.

- Kidney, Leighton?
- No, thanks.

Um, and as you know, I'm working on a venue
that can meet our special requirements.

Somewhere we haven't
already been banned from.

Obviously, yeah, but I need you
guys to get on with...

- Chaps, squid?
- Here you go!

- Mate, that's fucking rank.
- It's delicious.

So Ed got totally rinsed.

- Guys, this is important.
- What am I doing wrong?

Been on a hosepipe ban all summer.

Maybe if you didn't shark them together
like a couple of schweffes.

I haven't had so little sex
since boarding school.

You had more sex at boarding school.

OK, hands up, who did fuck-all work
over the vac?

Tubes, you worked?

Fucking jurisprudence essay,
Dad breathing down my neck.

If I don't get a 2:1...

- Ooh!
- Harsh.

Touché.

Chaps, this is a meeting.

Are we having elections next term?
For the presidency?

Bell-end, you want to be President?

Come on, I'd be awesome.

You'd be gash.

If we don't get any new members,
won't be anything to be President of.

With Sebbers and Gooder leaving last term,
we're down to eight.

Don't we have to have 10?

Hence the meeting.

Operation Grasshopper. OK. So,
does anyone have any nominations?

The dinner's closer than you think, guys.
We've got to start initiations, yeah?

May I say this is an opportunity to reconsider
the sort of person we're approaching,

really make sure they're
the best and the brightest?

- You mean the prettiest.
- I meant fine minds.

- Kidney, Hugo?
- You see?

Oh, my God, that one last year.

- Gay Harry Potter.
- Yeah.

Harry Potter is gay.
He's clearly porking Weasley.

Guys! Are we seriously going to be
the only year that couldn't get 10 members?

We're going down in history for that?

Did they go to a good school?
Eton, St Paul's, Westminster,

Harrow, if you have to.

And when push comes to shove,

do they have it in them
to be a fucking legend?

You'll know it when you see it.

Who's gonna get it?

Come on, come on!

Don't scream, don't look at me.

Put in the PIN number and take out 200.

Come on, put in the fuckin' PIN number!

It's actually just "PIN".

What?

The N stands for number,
it's Personal Identification Number.

So, if you say "PIN number",
you're saying "number" twice.

You're saying "Personal Identification
Number number".

It's just wrong!

- Think you're fucking clever?
- Jesus, please...

Shut it, you posh twat.

You pompous little prick.

You OK, mate?

- Yeah, I'm fine.
- Fuck, what happened to your face?

Got mugged.

- Hard luck, mate.
- Look, I'm fine.

- I'm fine. It doesn't matter.
- No, mate.

Come on.

What absolute wankers.

Get a job, yeah?

Shouldn't give you this,
you've probably got a concussion.

Do you know your name and everything?

Alistair Ryle.

- Not related to Sebastian Ryle?
- Yeah, my brother.

Fuck, you're Sebbers' brother? Oh, my wow!

- How come I didn't know you at Eton?
- I was at Harrow.

Ah, well, can't have everything.

Good to meet you.

Whoo!

I say! You ladies need a lift?

- Guys, this is Sebbers' little brother.
- No jokes!

- Hi.
- Hi. Bellingfield.

I'm Toby.

Your brother was, like,
the best Riot Club president ever.

Oh, my God, Sebbers was a legend.

How's he doing at Deutsche Bank?

Uh, uh, they let him go, actually.

- What?
- Yeah, last in first out, so...

Fuck, what's he doing now?

Uh, says he's going to buy an Airstream,
big old silver caravan thing,

start a business doing street food
at festivals and shit.

You know, "Really good burgers"?

Mate, get in.

What the fuck happened to your face?

- Hi.
- Hey.

Did you ask for an upgrade?

I'm skint.
My tutor's paying me to type his book up.

I've got so much to do.

Can I help?

We really shouldn't be doing this.

Mate, what the fuck
was going on in that place tonight?

You can't dance for shit.

Good morning, Oxford!

- Someone put Tubes to bed, yeah?
- How about a sleep?

Nice bit of Bedfordshire.

The Duke of Bedfordshire!

- I'm the king of the car!
- Whoa!

You're magnificent, now sit down.

Jesus fuck!

Not on my coat!

Oh, bail out!

Oh, that fucking, oh, my God...

Ugh!

That is hanging.

- Sorry.
- Is it on my hair?

- Bit of a chunderstorm...
- Oh!

Come on, mate...

Fuck it. Ashtray was full anyway.

Thanks, Bell-end.

Mate, the homeless can't drive.

Pudding.

No, dessert.

Toilet.

Toilet?

Loo.

This office is mental.

There are some rooms here, you think,

"This is too Oxford even for Oxford",
you know what I mean?

Oh, napkin.

You say "napkin"?

No, you say "napkin". We say "serviette".

Dick.

Yeah. "Dick".

Big night last night?

The usual.

Yeah, I didn't sleep much either.

Good morning.

Please, take a seat.

I won't be interested in excuses
about not having done it

because you're in the college play.

If you don't bring an essay
worthy of discussion each week,

you let your partner down
as well as yourself.

Your job is to provoke him,

challenge him to be more rigorous,
examine every thought.

Any questions?

Do we need to like each other?

Pull!

Good shot.

How do you bear it, all these tourists?

Oh, couldn't afford to get the roof fixed
if they didn't come.

Pull!

It's always the roof.
No point getting misty about it.

Our roof's got holes you could fire
a cow through.

Pull!

Arse biscuits!

John Senior Sergeant over here.

Which is absolutely beautiful for context.

And there's also a Van Dyck up here.

Uh, sorry, sir, you can't go through there.

You're him.

God, I'm so sorry.

No harm done, Kerry.

And the, uh, Van Dyck which is

a very nice piece.

So this my great-great-great grandfather
who was at the first ever club dinner.

Oh!

And this

is Lord Riot himself.

Total fucking legend,
that's what you say, isn't it?

Ryle, this is my uncle Jeremy.

Uncle Jezza was Riot Club President
back in the what, 1850s?

Little shit.

- Pretty much runs the country now.
- Well, just the party.

- Balfour, still bowling under arm?
- Working on it.

- How d'you do?
- Alistair Ryle

See you all for dinner. Beef, I think.

Shall we get the PlayStation out, Villiers?

What, so I can whoop your arse again?

We woke up the next day in Vienna.

Passed out face down in a box of marzipan.

That was one of
our quieter dinners.

When, um, when my father was at Oxford,

the Riot set off a box of fireworks
in the Randolph Hotel.

- Oh, dear.
- Classic.

Different times. Well, you wouldn't fuck
about like that now, would you?

No, of course not.

Can't have anything else in the papers.

Nazi shit storm over student conservatives
was bad enough.

Children playing politics.

Are you not a fan of Port and Policy Night?

Full of twats who think it's a free pass
into the cabinet.

Local councillors of the future.
Well, good night, all.

- You sorry bunch.
- Night, Jezza.

Hello, doggles!

Yes, hello.

Come on, up you come.

You know what Jezza told me? Back in the 80s
they used to hire a girl for the dinner.

- A girl?
- Prozzer.

Put her under the table,
went round one at a time.

Huh.

Don't listen. Horrid boys.

So, we're at the top university
in the world, yeah?

Arguably.

And so are 20,000 other people.

But there are no more
than 10 in the Riot Club.

The top 10.

If you'd like, I could speak to Leighton.

I'll nominate you.

Best not tell Mum about that.
Uh, George IV, I think.

Whoops!

That's the college rowing team.

When they hear this song, they have to down
their drinks and take off all their clothes.

Do you not think they've noticed
it's massively homoerotic?

I've heard the Riot Club have an initiation

where you pour a whole bottle of champagne
over your head.

Oh, brilliant.

I think I'd rather drink it.

Right. Anyone? Lauren, drinks?

Oh, um, I think we're just buying our own.

Oh, yeah, sure. Cool.

We do it with port, actually, not
champagne. It's more visceral.

In the Riot Club?

Miles, isn't it?

The school plays?

My Richard lll was quite something.

Oh, my God. You're the guy
who used to improvise limericks in Latin.

And get bogwashed for it.

You look, um, you look different.

Hugo.

- It's Hugo.
- I did remember.

You didn't. It's fine.

Cigarette?

After you.

Oh, everything you see
is begged and borrowed.

I'm very much the ragged end of the gentry.

So, I must ask,

what's a nice Westminster boy like you doing
with all those boot-strappy regionals?

I don't know, Lauren's cool, so...

Well, you know what they say,
girls for now, girls for later.

So...

The Club...

The Riot Club connects me to hundreds
of years of history.

The dinner is debauchery raised to an art,

almost spiritual.

Something is released.

Do you know there are some people
who think they're here to get a degree?

Yeah, listen.
Could you stop flirting with me, please?

Oh, really?

Go on, then.

Help...

Off we go!

I've got the money for those fines.
I will be back very shortly.

Maestro!

Ugh!

Shit!

Straight,
straight, straight.

Oh!

Chateau Petrus, 1976.

What is the correct way to eat ortolan?

Which is bigger, a Mordechai
or a Methuselah?

What is a Roman shower?

Which happens first, the Cheltenham
Gold Cup or the Grand National?

What did Disraeli do three times
and Gladstone four?

What does a coprophagic like to do?

How did Edward ll die?

Which is oldest, Trinity College Cambridge
or Trinity College Oxford?

Don't answer yet. Go, go, go!

- Come on!
- OK

What is the answer to question five?

- Chancellor of the Exchequer.
- Oh, yeah!

Forty seconds!

- Answer in the right order.
- Yes.

Ortolan, eat it with a
napkin over your head.

- Come on, mate, think!
- Mordechai.

- Getting someone to vomit on you.
- Whoa! Whoo!

Cheltenham Gold Cup.

- Chancellor of the Exchequer.
- Yeah!

Shit! They do they...
They like to eat shit.

- Red hot poker up the arse.
- Come on, mate!

- And, uh...
- Ten seconds!

- Trinity College, Cambridge.
- Yes!

By nine years.

That was actually remarkably good.

I feel polluted. Those guys are hard-core.
It was total carnage.

Are you sure you want to be in this thing?

Yeah, it's actually kind of an honour
to be asked, if they want me.

You don't even know yet?

Well, apparently, I'll be sent a sign.

Here.

Well, just sip it.

Oh, I saw your post.

The Honourable Miles Richards?

You're an "Honourable"?

It's just a historical thing,

it doesn't mean anything.

God, are you sure you wouldn't prefer

one of those rah girls with all the hair?

Listen.

I've been out with those girls.

And you are so much better.

- Hmm.
- You're gorgeous.

Everything you've just said is bollocks.

Or to put it another way?

Woolly liberal bollocks.

Sorry, but calling the Beveridge Report
"a wholly positive force"...

The NHS and the welfare state were founded
on the post-war re-evaluation of society.

Which your essay suggests
is some kind of socialist utopia!

I'm just saying, the culture
of dependency it fostered...

Fostered moral citizenship!

Forcing people to pay
for other people's bad choices.

- Or bad luck!
- Gentlemen!

May I suggest, we're straying
into subjective territory.

I'm much less interested in your opinions
than I am in intellectual rigour.

We're historians. Not guests on Newsnight.

Welcome to the Riot Club.

You fuckers.

You total fuckers.

We aim to please.

Hope you weren't too attached
to your, um, everything.

- Shit! Oh, fuck!
- Miles?

- Oh, my God, have you been burgled?
- No, it's...

Your laptop!

Oh...

Well, I think this means I'm in.

This is what they do to people they like?

No, I'm just going to clear it up.

Oh, come on, it's just a bit of fun.

- It's tradition.
- These people are not your friends.

- Oh, for fuck's sake, Lauren!
- What?

Well, maybe, you don't like it
cos you don't get to do it.

Fuck! Look, I'm sorry! Lauren!

Jesus.

I just wish I knew whose jizz it was-.

Well, it's one for all and all for one.

So, in a way, it's everyone's jizz.

Great, so, you did Bukkake on my room.

Proper Riot boy.

Here.

It's actually really hard to get off.
Paper's porous.

You know, in a few years' time, these
boys will be behind some very big desks,

important desks.

You as well.

College is the last time we get to disport
ourselves without anyone watching.

Let's not waste it by being squeamish.

Looks great. Looks classy.

It's a ruby wedding party, Dad,
I don't know if they want classy.

No, this is the Young Entrepreneurs.

- Students? All this?
- Hmm.

Wealthy kids, wealthy parents.

This is a fine dining market.

Yeah, we're a pub, not a Michelin Star.

And do you know how many pubs
are closing every week in this country?

Helen, they need forks
as well as spoons for dessert,

they're not having Fruit Corners.

Posh people say "pudding", Dad,
not "dessert".

No they don't, do they?

- Where did you learn that?
- University?

Must have been.

Don't drink until the president
says you can.

OK.

And absolutely no talk
of religion or politics.

- Is it always this far away?
- Oh, we're banned from anywhere closer.

And the menu is all, like, breast
of chicken wrapped in boring,

so I said to Leighton,
"Mate, let me go off-piste,

"organise something awesome."

It's great President material.

Fuck, is this restaurant in Wales?

- Better start my campaign, then.
- You?

Election's next term, isn't it?

What, you think I wouldn't be good?

Just didn't think you'd
be going for President.

Is it because I is Greek?

Jesus, Bellingfield,
it's because I'm Greek?

No! No, mate, come on.

- Mate, how long have we been friends?
- Since the first day of school.

And you think I couldn't be
President because I'm Greek?

Oh, my...

Wow!

Hi! George Balfour. Have you...

Is this the 60-80?

Boom! Fucking Reservoir Dogs!

- Evening, chaps.
- Hello, mate.

- What the fuck?
- Mate?

- My fucking tute partner.
- Oh, classic.

- So, Milo?
- Hmm.

Do you know, I don't think I know
a single person called Lauren.

Prolier than thou.

- Lauren what, Lauren who?
- Lauren Small.

- Oh, small, is she?
- Not where it matters.

Actually, she's, she's nice.

Fuck, I thought you were
just being a sex tourist.

Well, what's the point of college
if you can't experiment?

What, you mean "girls for now,
girls for later“?

Yeah, you'll learn, mate.
Girls are for gays.

- Oh, look, it's bloody Leighton!
- Yes, sorry, sorry.

Did you get held up at the nail bar?

Start the party. I am thirsty.

- Showtime, Balf!
- Oh! Oh.

Oh, uh, duty calls.

Bloody nice to meet you.

- Oh, and, uh, good luck with the llamas.
- Oh, thank you.

Hold on, hold on, hold on.

Ready?

All right, nice and
still, please, gents.

Ah!

Evening, gentlemen. Please do come through.

Thanks very much.

Thought you'd be in business suits,
more of a pinstripe thing.

- I'm sorry?
- Young Entrepreneurs Club.

- I'm sorry?
- Young Entrepreneurs Club.

Oh, yes, um, it's, uh, it's a retro night!

OK, we've got three soups...

OK, three soup, one prawn, two parfait,
two no starter, then two salmon,

- one haddock, five chickens.
- Five fucking chicken! Why do we bother?

You're going to get
the lads' starters out first, yeah?

No, we've taken the ruby Wedding's order,
we should do them before the penguins.

Private diners need to feel as if
they're being given VIP treatment.

Right, then! Well, good evening, gentlemen,
and welcome to the Bull's Head this evening.

Please feel free to sit down
and make yourselves at home.

Can't sit before the president.

Yeah, sit down, sit down.

Well, just a bit of housekeeping
before we serve your dinner,

hoping there's no dietary requirements
we haven't heard about.

I don't eat shit food.

I'm afraid you can't smoke in here,

but if you wish to partake,
please feel free to go outside.

The fire extinguisher is just over there.

Just hoping we won't be needing that, eh?

And, urn, lavatories are just
through the door where we came in,

so you don't have to go through
the main bar to access the facilities.

May I?

- Wants to be a waitress.
- Sommelier.

Gentlemen, let's start
this again, shall we?

Right.

Now just a bit of housekeeping
to go through...

Boo!

Yes, before we get onto the proper
business of the evening,

getting chateaued beyond belief!

Huzzah! Hear! Hear!

Chunder bag.

It's our time, gentlemen.

Let us eat till we explode,

drink till our eyes fall out,

let us dance footloose upon the Earth,

and carpe some fucking diem!

We who are about to dine, salute you.

Imbibe.

Mmm!

# God save our gracious queen

# Long live our noble queen

# God save the queen

# Send her victorious

# Happy and glorious

# Long to reign over us

# God save the queen #

Shall we make him a member.

Milo, wine.

Foie gras, mate.

Sorry, do you want yours
wrapped in a vine leaf? It'd be lovely.

This man needs some taramasalata!

I'm sorry, they're just
very excited to be here.

Chanel, Coco Mademoiselle.

Um, yeah. Well done.

All right, we're going in!

- See, they're nice, aren't they?
- Yeah, all right, they're nice.

I can't see them on The Apprentice, though.

What?

- She did...
- Villiers, you booked a prozzer?

Stick her under the table, yeah?

- Oh, yeah?
- What? Oh...

Villiers, how grubby!

I asked her to bring a false moustache
for when she does you.

Are you trying to make President?

- I'm just bringing sexy back.
- Villiers, if this gets out...

Worried about your CV, Leighton?

Carpe some diem, didn't you say?

- "We are legends"!
- Never mind.

Mmm and by the way, scrunching
Harry Villiers for sharking the waitress.

Oh, yes!

Oh, my God, that girl is tasty.

- OK, OK.
- Up you get, Villiers.

Scrunch! Scrunch! Scrunch! Scrunch!

- How would you like it cooked?
- Medium rare.

Medium rare!

Is there anything you
can do about the noise?

I'm sorry.

I think they're just enjoying themselves.

You know, boys...

Excuse me!

Yes.

- Any sign of that parfait?
- It's just coming.

It's just if Mum doesn't eat something
soon, she'll be singing as well.

All right, chaps, Banbury Toasts
while we're still upright.

- It's fucking cool, man!
- What? What is this?

- Just a game, come on.
- Excuse me, I'm in charge.

OK...

Quiet now, OK, OK...

Quiet!

OK, grasshoppers, here are the rules.

If the word means new person
or some sort of beginner,

you take a shot. Best of five.

Abecedarian!

- Advantage Ryle's.
- Advantage Ryle's. Very good.

- No, it's fine.
- Good work.

- You'll get into the swing of it.
- You've done it.

Don't. Get away from me.

Whoo! Novitiate.

Come on! Come on!

Richards!

- Milo! Milo.
- He's back in this.

Here.

Neologism!

What? He said "gism".

OK, OK, OK!

Whippersnapper!

Go! Go! Go! Go!

Draw! That's neck in neck, it's a draw.

- This is fantastic!
- Next round.

OK, OK, OK, come on.

Didn't I say? Come on, fight it, fight it.

- Come on!
- Fight it!

Shh!

Catechumen!

Go! Go! Go! Go!

That's Richards! We have a winner!

Come on, mate, come on.

Did you see? That was brilliant!

Really brilliant, honestly.

Three shots, mate!

All right, shh!

Raise your glasses
to Lord Riot and the dead members.

Dead members!

You've got a dead member,
haven't you, Bell-end?

Only cos your mum's
been sitting on it 24/7.

Once more unto the drink,
dear friends.

Once more! And give a roar
for all our English drunk.

On, on you noblest Riot,

whose blood is fed from vodka 80 proof!

Be envy now to clubs of weaker blood.

And teach them how to drink.

The game's afoot!

Pour out your spirits,

and with glasses charged,

Cry, "God for Harry,

"Dimitri and Alistair,

"James, Toby, Edward, Milo,

"Hugo, Guy and George!"

Plates, please, quick, quick, quick!

Size of that. Let's get a photo, yeah?

Oh, my Christ! That's a very big chicken.

That, gentlemen, is a 10 bird roast.

- Well, it's not actually...
- Good man.

What is a 10 bird roast?

- Porn?
- Exactly what it says,

a bird inside a bird inside a bird
inside a bird etcetera...

- We did have a tiny problem with...
- Bellingfield, it's amazing!

- It's amazing!
- Bravo, mate. Good work.

- What's pudding going to be?
- A 10 trifle, trifle?

Ten cake, cake.

Great! Who wants to do the honours?

How about I do it with this.

- Oh, Milo!
- Milo!

Yes, Milo!

Oh, I love a roast potato! I love them!

Absolutely disgraceful.

Why 10 birds specifically?

Because there's 10 of us.

Ten birds bound in the heat
of the fire into one entity,

i.e., the club.

- What birds is it?
- Must be something tiny in the middle.

- A tiny shrew?
- Birds, you wad.

- Duckling?
- No, that's not a bird.

I think it's a budgerigar.

- Poussin? Woodcock.
- Oh, no, woodcock are tiny.

They'd be a bugger to shoot.

So that woodcock's been inside
more birds than Villiers.

Nine? Nine squared, mate.

- Seriously, what birds is it?
- Dims, OK.

Uh, woodcock.

Uh, duck, chicken, goose.

Guinea fowl, quail, partridge,
turkey, pigeon, pheasant.

Ten birds.

There's no guinea fowl in here.

What?

Dad, they won't notice, will they?

Just couldn't get hold
of a guinea fowl this week.

I mean, maybe we should change suppliers.

- Table eight away.
- The amount they've drunk,

I did try to tell them.

Unless

there was, like, a blue tit
smashed up in the stuffing.

- Nine fucking birds!
- Mate, I hate broccoli.

- Did he tell you?
- No, he fucking didn't!

- Come on, guys, it's still pretty cool.
- It's delicious!

Are we going to complain?

It's just that when we arrange something,
we expect to get it.

OK, is anyone still hungry?

- Cos I could make you an omelette.
- No, no, sorry.

Rachel, I don't think you understand,

these chaps have eaten in some
of the finest restaurants in the country.

- The world, mate.
- What are you doing in Kidsbury, then?

- I'm sorry, what?
- You might want to keep the noise down a bit.

Well, that could have gone better.

- Oh, well, there goes the neighbourhood...
- What?

She went to school with my sister
and now she's

a sex worker.

Thank you, but we'd prefer it if
you took your business elsewhere.

- Leighton got totally fucking rinsed.
- No, I didn't.

It's really not that important, is it?

It's important we get what we want.

Yes, thank you, Ryle.

Gentlemen, it's cock o'clock.

Yes! Yes, brilliant.

Harry, tell her, I've got my cock
out ready for her.

Oh, no, no. There's a fire exit.

Go round the back. Yeah, yeah.

Please, come through.

- After you.
- Thank you, Harry.

Ah!

Well, this is Charlie.

She's a...

What do you say? A call girl?

- Oh, an escort actually these days.
- Escort.

Oh, thank you.

Um, you've got a room, have you?

Um, where are the others going to go?

Oh, no, no, they'll be here.
Around the table.

- Right?
- And you, well,

you, under the table.

What am I doing under the table?

Um, us. One at a time.

- Maybe three at a time.
- Mate.

Well, she's got two
hands, hasn't she? So...

You're talking about oral?

On all of you?

We'd give you a cushion for your knees.

Yeah, um...

I think there's been...

- Chris?
- Dad?

Hang on there, Rach. Chris?

Rachel needs you out front,
table 12 is kicking off.

Yeah.

I do a more classy sort of service.

You know, like a date, only I don't call
in the morning. Dinner, conversation...

Yeah, we wanted to pick
your brains about fiscal policy.

Um, did the agency not say that
extras had to be agreed in advance?

I thought he was asking
if I wanted more than one girl.

They throw these fucking
euphemisms at you.

Villiers.

Listen, Charlie,

I'm sure we can work something out,
can't we?

A considerably bigger fee,
which the agency needn't know about?

Oh, I don't do anything off the books.

Sorry, I'm trying to be a gentleman here,
but I'm actually really fucked off.

OK, isn't she just the wrong kind of...
A different kind of...

Don't, Richards!

You might be happy
being pussy-whipped, but I'm not.

OK, mate.

Look, I promised these boys
they'll get a blow job tonight,

if you don't do it, then
I look like a cunt.

I'm really sorry,

but I don't do more than two visits
in a row without a break, so...

What break do you need
if you're just lying there?

I'm not just a live version
of the sock you wank into.

I'm not sure you quite appreciate
who you're talking to.

Do it yourself, you'll be under the table,
a mouth's a mouth.

Why can't you just fucking do it?

Why can't you just buckle down and...

Oh, for fuck's sake, you're a whore.

Right, I think I'm going now, aren't I?

Toodle Pip!

Fuck!

Do understand, sir,
we've been short-staffed this evening

- and your order got caught in a bottleneck.
- What about the noise?

- We could try and find you another table.
- We're leaving.

I don't suppose you want to settle up
for your drinks and starters?

I am trying to run a
family restaurant here.

Gastro pub.

You might like that sort of thing,

I find it extremely offensive.

Notwithstanding, it's against the law...

Let's not get into the legality of this.

I've just had a table of four
leave before their mains,

refusing to pay the bill
because of the noise.

Yeah, I'm sorry.

We're very, very sorry.

I think it's time for you to leave, please.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

We're ever so sorry.

Most of us went to boarding school,
we don't really know any women.

I'd like you to leave.

How much was the bill?

For the table who left?

Um, maybe, £100 by the end of the night.

- And we're spending what tonight?
- Ryle, just...

We're spending what tonight?

About three and a half grand, I think.

It's not just about the money,

it's about goodwill,

these people are my customers.

OK.

Gesture of goodwill.

We'll, um, we'll call it 150, all right?

Let's say they were going
to order another bottle.

We wouldn't want you to be out of pocket.

Exactly.

This is what they teach you
at boarding school, is it?

Actually, yeah, it is.

Here we go.

Lovely!

I thought you were going to chuck them out.

We came to an arrangement.

Did you let them pay you off?

All right, so, I let them reimburse me
for a table that we lost.

What? Would you rather that I just
didn't take money off people?

I'm still paying off
your student loan, you know.

- Dad...
- Look, Rachel, if you've got comments,

just save them for after
service, all right?

Michael, I'll be behind
the bar if you need me.

"Is that what they teach you
at boarding school?"

I know. Knob-jockey.

Come on. You offered him a deal,
he took it, what's the...

Yeah, but he keeps the moral high ground.

What about, don't take the money
if you feel that fucking strongly?

Or what about, take the money,
but shut the fuck up?

Ryle, you're a fucking legend.

And her, right, Charlie,

you're a prostitute,
love, get on your knees.

Fuck ya!

I mean, are we just going to sit here
and take it, carry on taking it?

- We're all going to come out of college...
- Which we worked fucking hard for.

...and there's going to be no country left
for us because of people like him.

Oh, come on, that's a bit
of a hard line position, isn't it?

We never use those.

Buon appetito!

OK, join it up, shall we?

So, OK, they want all the stuff,
nice car, massive telly,

so they borrow more than
they can ever afford to pay back.

- Yeah.
- Then, when the great New Labour

shop in the sky goes up in flames,
they vote us back in to sort it out.

Sounding a lot like a conversation
about politics here, can I just say?

State of the world, mate.
Everything's political.

- I'm here for the wine and the jokes.
- Hear, hear.

Cos you've got no heritage, that's why.

- I've got a boatload of heritage.
- No, mate, you've got a boat.

Fuck you, Bellingfield.

You know, they're obsessed...

- They're obsessed with upward mobility.
- Absolutely.

Don't understand why it doesn't
all just get handed to them.

- Mate.
- No, fuck you.

- Does anyone not want their pudding?
- Is that why they're all so bitter?

I can't help who my father is, but every
fucking internship interview it comes up,

as if I haven't worked,
as if I don't work my fucking arse off!

- It's just them and us all over again.
- Yes!

No, it's not. It's not at all.
It's not them and us.

In our village pub, we drink with everyone.

People who work in the estate, farmers.

- Who buys the drinks?
- Sorry?

Who pays for the drinks?

Well, I do.

You think they don't laugh at you
when you're not there?

George, they hate you.

Fuck! Oh, that's nice.

All I need now is a blo-jo.

Maybe we should just try and

find a way to, uh, co-exist.

Mate, just cos you're doing field research
doesn't mean the rest of us want to.

We apologise.

We apologise for being who we are.

We pretend we're the same,
we do it to ourselves, yeah?

We need to stop apologising.

Cos it's only going to get worse.

Shit! Um, lose it, lose the coke.

Um, yep-

- Hi.
- Fuck!

What are you, uh, sorry, hi...

Um, what are you... What
are you doing here?

You texted me?
You asked me to come.

- No, I didn't.
- Yeah, you texted me.

Sorry, who are you?

Oh, it's Miles' girlfriend.

- Lauren Small!
- I didn't text you.

No, I didn't fucking text her!
I didn't text you.

Presumably, we could sort this out
quite easily by seeing the text?

Oh, yeah, absolutely. Very good point.

Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!

- Jesus, just look at mine.
- Thank you.

Lauren...

"I need you to rescue me.

"Can you put on a dress
and come to the Bull's Head, Kidsbury?

"Kiss, kiss, kiss, Miles."

Honestly, some fuckwit has
nicked my phone and texted you.

You said you needed me and I came.

I think that makes me a nice person.

It does, it does, you know.

Excuse me, sorry, excuse me.

Um...

Uh, I'm sorry, Lauren.
But this is a mistake. So...

I think I'm gonna put you in a taxi...

No, no, no, she's only just arrived.
Where are your manners, Milo?

- Harry...
- Seriously, calm down, sit down.

Lauren, please, have a drink.

Here.

Oh, this is nice.

So, now, Lauren,

my friend here has a question for you.

Hi.

Hello!

How would you like to make £300 tonight?

What?

Oh, my God, is he going to ask her? Legend.

You see...

We had this...

We had this lady friend, um, boo,

the landlord sent her away.

- Guys, please, don't...
- What sort of lady friend?

- Service industry.
- Just a few blow jobs.

- OK, it's my girlfriend, can you just stop?
- Oh, sorry, sorry.

I didn't realise you were,
you know, exclusive.

What was it you said earlier?

"Girls for now, girls for later."

- I didn't say that.
- Yes, you did.

I didn't say that! I didn't say it!

Chaps, chaps.

I think that's a bit insulting
to Lauren, actually.

Three hundred quid?

No, no, surely it should be something
that actually makes a difference?

- Like, um...
- Dimitri, please.

Twenty-seven grand?

What?

It's three years' tuition fees.

Just for a few blow jobs.

Spicy.

I'm serious.

Give me your account number,
I will do a transfer right now.

Miles?

- I, um...
- Yeah?

It's up to you.

Sorry?

No, no, no, you're right...

It's up to me?

No, no, no, I'm sorry,
I just thought for a second,

for a moment, I just thought
it's a fuckload of money.

What, and I'm the sort of scrubber
who'd take it?

No, no, I didn't think
it was my decision to make.

Um, can I get you a taxi?

- Can you let me out, please?
- What is it, Lauren?

You're too good for us?

We've got the finest sperm
in the country in this room,

you should be paying us
to let you drink it.

What are you saying? What are you doing?

Whoa, whoa, jokes. Lauren...

Jokes.

Do you not do humour at state school?

What?

You think we'd touch you with a bargepole?

Wouldn't fuck her with a bargepole.

That is fucking offensive.

Let her out, guys.

Let her out.

Oh, no, sorry, it's, uh, it's pull.

Stop it.

For fuck's sake, stop it.

Anyone else?

Lauren!

Lauren.

You're wasted, you're wasted.

Rach...

Rachel.

We'll talk about it in the morning, Dad.

Go help yourself to a pint if you want.

Best get back, thanks,
the little one's teething.

Unless you need help handling those lads.

What? No. I'll be fine.

Go on, get home.

See ya.

Go on, Paul, I'll empty that.

- See you on Monday.
- See ya.

While you're under
my roof, you'll respect my rules.

Well, I've got a new rule for you, mate,
it's called "Fuck you, we're the Riot Club".

This bourgeois outrage when
we do anything, say anything.

Anything we ever build or achieve,

anything with the slightest whiff
of magnificence,

how did they get everywhere,

how did they make everything
so fucking second-rate?

Thinking they're better
because there's more of them.

That's not sweat on their palms,

it's envy, it's resentment.

And it stinks like a fucking drain.

- Hear, hear.
- That's right.

I am sick to fucking death of poor people.

Yeah, fucking yes.

Lauren? It's me.

Please call me back.

I'm really...

I thought you'd gone.

Was it you that texted her?

Of course not.

Whatever thing it is you have
for me, you need to fucking...

- I'm straight, yeah?
- Yeah, I got that.

I'm not your fucking rent boy.

No one forced you into this.

You wanted to come.

Come on, boys, back to the trenches.

Come on, Milo, Milo.

I can't hear enough smashing.
More smash, more trashing.

Oh, Jesus.

Jesus Christ.

What have you done?

You've broken my bulls.

- What the hell are you doing?
- No, no, no, don't worry.

- Don't worry?
- We're going to pay you, we always pay.

What gave you the right...

Oh, sit down.

Take the knife off him.

Chaps, let's all be gentlemen, shall we?

Shut up and listen.

Now, this, this is how it works.
You go back out there quietly,

we do this and we pay you very generously.

People let you do this?

Most people are smart enough
to take the treats and shut up.

I don't want your money.

Then what are you trying to do
with this tawdry little cum-shack?

People like you

think you can buy your way out
of everything, don't you?

- You think the world just revolves...
- Oh, I know, I know.

You're torn up inside
cos you think you don't like me.

News for you.

You fucking love me.

You'd like to be me,

you just can't quite admit it, can you?

Chip on your shoulder much?

You're no better than a bunch of kids
breaking shop windows.

You're just spoiled little brats.

Oops.

Shit, Villiers, get the door, get the door.

Come on.

No, no, no, no.

Wouldn't want you to be out of pocket.

Go, go, go, go.

Fuck.

Bowler.

Come on.

Toby, Toby, Toby, Toby.

It's OK.

Guys...

What the, the fuck are you doing?

He was pushing me all night.

Jesus fucking Christ, is he breathing?

Yeah. Just.

Ambulance, please.

Hang up, Milo. Milo, hang up the phone.

The Bull's Head, Kidsbury.

- Somebody's unconscious.
- Wait. Say he fell. Say he fell.

He was punched.

Fuck's sakes, Richards.

I'm gonna be sick.

Mate, they'll send the police,
you said there's been a fight.

Fuck.

Right, guys, listen,

nobody says anything to them, OK?

I think it's pretty fucking obvious
what's happened.

Just say, "No comment", yes?

Get the money out.

I didn't do this. I didn't do this.

Mate, it's the club, right?
We all did this.

Did you say anything?

Nothing.

You?

Uh-uh.

Mate.

Remember when you did the bedroom trash?

Yeah.

Whose room did you do first?

Why?

Is this your driver?
I'll tell you in the car.

- Are you a relative?
- I don't need to see him,

I just want to find out if he's OK...

The fuck are you doing here?

See how much trouble you're in?

It's all right. It's going to be fine.
Thank you very much.

Excuse me.

Excuse me, I'm sorry,
I just wanted to check, is he...

Is he what? Is he dead?

- Is he dead?
- No.

Now get back in your Bentley and fuck off.

One of his lungs has collapsed.
He's got a blood clot in his brain.

Fuck.

Two broken ribs. Collarbone.
Several fingers, broken nose,

ruptured spleen, internal bleeding.

Right now they're trying to
save the sight in his left eye,

does that answer your fucking question?

Yes.

Dad.

They're asking if you
can remember anything.

Who hit you?

I don't know.

They all look the same.

- Where's Miles?
- I don't know.

So, what do we do?

Wait.

My lawyer says they'll call us back for
second interviews if they find anything.

They'll find fingerprints
and things, won't they?

Ivan says we carry on. Say nothing.

How far is that going to get us?

It got us bail, didn't it?

Well, can someone come up with something?

Cos I'd really like to have a career.

Self-defence. He came at us waving a knife.

What? Ten on one?

How about we give them someone?

You mean, the police?

We choose one person, ideally a volunteer,

we all say he was the one
who had the fight with the landlord.

What about the club?
Sticking together, all for one?

Wait. One man confesses,
takes a hit for the team.

Nine of us stay clean.

He'd be a fucking hero.

And the rest of us do what we can
to help him in the future.

You don't leave a man out in the field,

- this is not what we do.
- Balf, it's not fucking Dunkirk.

Surely, we don't get to choose?

Mate?

Surely it's up to the police
who gets punished?

The landlord can't remember who hit him.

So, we can decide that.

So?

Who is it going to be?

It's pretty obvious, isn't it?

Ryle...

Would you like to volunteer?

What?

You did punch him first.

I wasn't the only one.

The rest of you wanted
to, even if you didn't.

You did get everyone wound up.

What?

That stuff you said, "Stop apologising",
"Them and us"...

I was only saying what every other fucker
in here was thinking.

Incitement. It was incitement.

I mean, didn't your brother tell you
it was a dinner, not a rally?

Nothing like his brother.

It should be the president, shouldn't it?

What the fuck?

If anyone's going to fall
on their sword, shouldn't it be you?

I, I didn't even touch him.

Man up and take it.

Boys...

Or we do the logical
thing, last in, first out.

What, the newest member?

But we've got two new members.

Yeah, but technically
you only become a member

once your room's trashed,
so it depends on which order we did that.

We did Ryle first, so technically...

Technically, it's Miles.

I didn't do anything.

You did call the ambulance.

I'm not going to go in
there and say I did this.

What the fuck?

We'll all rally.

Dimitri can get you a shit-hot lawyer.
You'd be doing it for the club.

Fuck the club.

We're not still talking about that, are we?

I'm sorry, but I can't...

God, if it really kicked off...

We could all get sent down from college.

Yes, and that's the worst possible thing
you can imagine happening, is it?

Miles, I have holes in my pockets
and no one useful on speed dial.

I'm built for hiding in libraries.

I'm not gonna lie to the police,
so you can ponce around

- in a fucking cape for the rest of your life.
- Thing is, mate,

it's nine against one.

Whatever you say.

Can I, uh, speak to you?

- Somewhere not...
- I've got nothing to say.

Please, I have to talk to you...

You let them humiliate me.

I'm sorry.

Really sorry.

And I will do whatever you want
to prove that to you, but...

I need your help, something has happened...

Why should I help you
after what you put me through?

I didn't do what you think,
I tried to stop them...

You were there.

You had a choice, Miles.

You chose to do nothing

and if you speak to me ever again,
I will report you,

all of you, for assault.

Please...

Alistair Ryle?

Uh, no.

This is his room?

No, we, we swapped.

He's in Cloister Quad, Walsingham,
number six, I think.

You got some ID?

Yeah, yeah.

Sorry to disturb you.

No, it's fine. Thank you.

Alistair Ryle?

They found bits of the landlord
under Ryle's fingernails.

Bits?

I don't know, skin and stuff. Skin.

And they've charged him?

Yeah.

Just him?

Yes.

And the rest of us pay a police fine
for the damage.

No criminal record.

And do we trust Ryle to...

Of course, we do. The man's a legend.

And what about college?
Are we gonna be sent down?

You're a fucking pussy, Leighton,
you know that?

Were it up to me,
these boys would be sent down

for moral vacuity and unspeakable
thoughtlessness.

However, I have been outvoted.

Since the police have decided
to prosecute only one of the boys,

the council of colleges doesn't feel
justified in removing all 10.

Not with the roasting
we'd receive from the press.

Only Alistair Ryle is to be sent down.

Oh well, that is, my gosh,

that is very good news.

Time will tell if it was one bad apple
spoiling the rest.

Well, thank you.

Of course, if there's anything we can do
to say thank you to the college...

Anything?

No.

OK, Olly, let's go.

Your marvellous brother's got away
with it this time.

- What's that mean?
- He stays.

He's allowed back after the holidays.
Thank God.

Richards, mate.

I was just coming to find you.

Sorry.

Guy Bellingfield.

Wonderful to meet you, I've heard so much.

You're not a friend
from this club, are you?

Uh, from the history society,

Junior Historians.

Actually, I'm the new president
of the Junior Historians.

President?

The previous incumbent was shown
not to be up to the job, so...

I thought we could get together,
discuss next term's lecture series,

if you fancy coming along.

Maybe, it's not for me.

I'm done with societies.
I'll be fine on my own.

But thanks.

Well, good luck with that.

Um, good to meet you.

Tubes, mate, club meeting.

Operation Grasshopper, call me back, yeah?

Alistair. Good of you to come.

Harry said you wanted to see me.

Do you want some lunch?

Yeah.

You're with Johnny Drummond, right?

Dad trusts him.

He's a good lawyer.
What's he advising, self-defence?

Landlord was carrying a knife, I hear.

We're going with "I was bullied into it".

That the club scapegoated me,
which is pretty much the truth.

Forgive me, but wouldn't it be better
if the club could be kept out of it?

- I don't see how it could...
- Oh, with the right lawyer, certainly.

I know a man,

ex-member himself, very useful
at sorting out our scrapes over the years.

I don't give a shit about the club.

Smash it.

It's a bunker, isn't it?

Training up a generation
for a life in hiding.

We're not in hiding.

It's an adaptation.

We adapt to survive.

The dinners are just the beginning,
a three-year initiation, if you like.

Now, you might have lost your place
at college, but you're still in the club.

You can't afford not to be.

Look, why don't you come and
spend some time in my office,

see how we do things?

I don't want anything handed
to me on a plate...

I'm not giving you a constituency.

Maybe you've got it in you to
do something special one day.

And I'd rather you be doing it
in my camp than someone else's.

I'm not just offering you a better lawyer,
Alistair, I am offering you a future.

Good.

You know Lord Riot did not
spell his name R-I-O-T,

but R-Y-O-T?

Nothing to do with riotous behaviour.

Still, thank God, eh?

Thank God someone made the switch.

Could have just been a mistake.

People like us don't make mistakes, do we?