Bad Education (2012–…): Season 2, Episode 2 - The American - full transcript
Alfie is shocked when Kevin Schwimer, an all-American Olympic medallist with a penchant for charitable deeds and marathons, arrives at the school and - in view of his debacle at the swimming pool - given Alfie's Form K to teach whilst Alfie is relegated to trying to keep the terrifying Form 2J in order. Initially Form K warm to Kevin's stories and humanity but it soon becomes apparent that he is an impostor - which is just what Alfie needs to know to expose him to Miss Pickwell and Fraser. And the fact that Kevin also has a hand in killing the pet owl Miss Pickwell has brought in to cure the school's rat infestation also helps speed him on his way and get Alfie reinstated.
Lock and load, bitches.
It's Class Wars!
Mitchell, Rem Dogg, corridor. You're
the advancing German army.
Right, it's the 27th May, 1940.
Thousands of British troops
have been stranded
on the beaches of Dunkirk.
French beach?
Is it one of those topless ones?
No, Chantelle. Keep your
clothes on, and prepare for battle!
Hey, gang, I'm Mr Schwimer.
Er, where did you come from?
All the way from Harvard University,
sunshine state of California,
reporting for duty, sir!
Yeah, we're doing Dunkirk.
Which means you're about
four years too early, mate.
You're doing humour.
I love British humour.
Corgies with me majesty, m'lud?
Please can I have another crumpet!
All right, settle down,
everybody. Take a seat.
(Is he fucking mental?)
Oi, Dick Van Dyke.
What the hell are you doing here?
This is my class.
Didn't Miss Pickwell tell you?
I'm here to take over Form K.
Er, no, you're not,
these are my pupils.
Sorry, hombre. Not anymore.
Well, actually, yes, any more... hombre.
I'm in charge around here.
I've got their respect.
I'm like a God to them.
Sieg heil, Bastian
Schweinsteiger!
What? Dunkirk was at sea.
'Welcome to Radio Frase.
The chat quota of LBC,'
but with a host who was loved
as a child. Avengers, Assemble-y!
Last one there gets a
detention, unless it's Rem Dogg.
First announcement
on the new Tannoy, check.
Felt weird without any
trousers on.
Note to self - fake tan
and white slacks don't mix...
The Tannoy's still on, isn't it?
FEEDBACK OVER TANNOY
'Just to clarify,
I am wearing underpants. '
(Oh, God!)
Have you seen Pickwell?
God, when I see her, I'm going to
give it to her with both barrels.
Dick.
Maybe a change will do you good?
Yeah, you would say that,
cradle snatcher.
Alex is three years younger
than you. We're happy.
Get over it.
Did you have a fun weekend?
We went for a lovely, romantic meal.
A Happy Meal, was it?
What toy did she get?
If anyone's a child here, it's you.
Great.
Well, that means you can set
me and Alex up on play dates.
Well, she does have
some very fun toys.
Oh!
Hello, willkommen and awooga!
Item one. The school's got a couple of
new furry friends. And I'm not
talking about the pair of puppies
Erica Tinkler's recently acquired.
Woof woof!
♪ Who let the dogs out? ♪
Um, puberty let the dogs out.
It's normal for your bodies
to change and grow.
In fact, the other day,
I thought I found a lump.
Don't worry, nothing cancerous,
turns out it was just a knot of dead
skin in the old pork purse.
Rats. We've got rats.
Rats are really just big black mice,
like Rastamouse.
So, don't be scared of them,
and please, please, please
don't tell your parents.
Item two. The PE teacher has quit to
become a tree surgeon. I know!
Email from his lawyer
saying something about
operations on a yew tree.
Good luck to the guy.
Luckily, we've got a new signing, who's
going to be taking over
the school's worst performing
class, Special K...
um, Form K.
As the Archbishop of Banterbury, I
hereby ordain thee, Brother Schwimer.
Explosion, shrapnel.
That handshake is the best thing that's
ever happened to me.
So, a little about me.
I just got back from Malawi,
Africa,
where I was helping the victims of a
savage civil war.
But I am sure as heck pretty
darn excited to be here now
in Watford, United Kingdom.
OK, so I'm going
to be teaching history,
and helping out with the gym class.
So I guess you're wondering what
qualifies this guy to teach gym?
Yes.
Well, I did make a brief
appearance at the Olympics
here in London, England,
on Team USA.
Whoo!
What do you want? A medal?
I won gold with the coxless four.
Now I want to give you guys
a taste of the good old US of A.
But I will leave
the school food to you.
I'm not saying my students back home
were chunky or anything,
but I could catch them skipping class on
Google Earth.
LAUGHTER
Let's hope they keep the gun
culture at home as well, mate.
We all know why they keep their kids
so fat. Bigger targets.
High school massacres?
Am I right?
Yeah?
Come on - he's yanking your chain.
Gallows humour.
Throw him in the bloody Tower with
Saint Arthur of the Round Lake.
Classic!
Someone lock this guy up in
Bant-anamo Bay! Hey. Timberlake?
Oh! Who's with me?
I love Justin Timberlake.
Mr Wickers not with you?
Why, do you want him?
I don't "want" him.
I just thought he'd be yapping
around your cankles
like some over-excited puppy that needs
a good spade to the genitals.
Just to clarify, because I don't want
you misreading any signals,
it may shock you to learn that
a sexual carnivore like myself
was, for a spell, herbivorous.
Well, I don't understand a word of what
you just said but I'm guessing
it's something to do with the
fact I've got a girlfriend?
I understand your surprise now,
but this velociraptor couldn't wolf down
the caper bush for ever.
Are you trying to flirt with me?
No! No, no, no. Women cannot live
on pitta alone.
I need a little kofte in my kebab.
Well, I'm sure that comes as a relief
to many, many men.
I want you to know that I am...
(back on solids.)
Phew.
We need to talk about Kevin.
You can talk to me
about anything you want.
My door is so open,
it's off its hinges.
Yeah, I get it. Very clever.
Why didn't you tell me
I was losing my class?
After that fire
at the swimming gala,
Pickwell has got my jolly pink
giant by the scruff of its neck.
She said either I hire Kevin
or she reports me to various
child welfare agencies,
none of which are mahusive fans
of Super-F.
Well, I don't care
where I have to take this fight -
I'm getting my kids back.
Oh, BT dubs, if you're planning a
Fathers for Justice-style protest,
I've got wide a variety of superhero
costumes you could borrow.
The only one I can't lend you
is the Superman one.
Why not?
How long have you been
wearing that?
Every day for four years. In case I need
to save the school bus.
Buttons, buttons...
Where are the buttons?
Right, look, you can't just give
my class away.
Can too. Can not.
Can can, can can.
I can do the can can.
Yeah, well, I've spoken to them and
my class want me back.
They would take a bullet for me.
Ha! I find that hard to believe.
What the hell is that?
OK. Right, you are aware this
isn't Hogwarts?
Mr Wickers, meet Rumsfeld.
Rumsfeld, meet Mr Wickers.
Why is there an owl on your arm?
Well, Mr Fraser's attempts
to eradicate the vermin
have, thus far, been
unsuccessful, so...
An owl is the solution?
Well, I wanted to use mustard gas, but
some precious Red Tape Susan
said that sulphur-based cytotoxins and
children are incompatible.
Hence, Rumsfeld and I
are hunting rats...
Oh, and there's one
in particular that's so grubby,
even turds retch as they glide past him
in the sewer.
OK, well, I assume I'm that rat in that
little pooey analogy of yours.
But let me tell you this, there
is
absolutely no way on Earth that I'm
going to stand by and watch you...
Cheep, cheep, cheep. Would you like to
meet your new form now?
Fine.
I'm teaching 2J?
Putting me in there is like
putting Justin Bieber
on the main stage at Reading.
They'll murder me.
Remember - don't look them
in the eye.
Oh, and the smell of urine? They're just
marking their territory.
As I walk through the valley of
the shadow of death...
I take a look at my life
and realise there's nothing left
Cos I've been laughin' and blastin'
so long that even my momma
thinks that my mind is gone.
I didn't know you were a
Coolio fan!
It's the Bible. Psalm 23.
Whatever. It's definitely Coolio.
It's a tune, though,
I'll give you that.
Oh, I forgot to mention,
they're studying this.
Right.
Listen up, you little bastards.
Before we begin, I want to
make one thing crystal clear.
I could kick the shit out of you
in a fight.
And don't think that I wouldn't just
because you're smaller than me
and some of you are little girls.
Any questions? No. Thought not.
Beowulf, chapter one.
In hildy-fildy pildy harque-wun
pur-pon diddly dee di
diddle-um dee didly dom...
Six minutes, 17 seconds.
They're monsters! They're 11.
Just think of it as babysitting.
I'm not a babysitter.
No, of course you're not.
They are babysitting you.
I see visions of me dead.
Lord, are you there?
The Bible? Tupac.
No, please!
A little orphan looked up at
me and said...
Nicola Berti's been stabbed!
Don't worry, I know first aid.
She's bleeding out by
the school gates. Go, quick!
Go. Go.
Okey-dokey, time for a little chat.
Is Nicola going to die?
Nicola?
Oh, no, that was just something I said
to get rid of Kevin of Nazareth.
Gullible! So not LOL, sir.
What's that?
Mr Schwimer ran the New York Marathon
for Protect the Rhino.
Protect the rhino?
They're basically dinosaurs!
I think they can look after
themselves.
I have been thinking long and hard about
how I'm going to get you back.
I have considered
every possible option -
and I'm going to need one of you to say
that Kevin touched you.
A little fiddle. Anyone?
Oh, God, you guys are so square!
Joe?
Your new haircut's given you
a kind of choirboy vibe.
They tend to dig that look.
No way.
I just want my class back.
What am I going to do?
Cut and run? Take me to France, sir.
Overnight ferry, shack up in Bordeaux,
let the man-hunt begin.
Come and get us, Interpol.
I've got a plan to get rid of him, sir.
Shoot. Right!
We're going to need a van,
some cable ties and an alibi.
Oh! Mitchell, we're not re-enacting your
parents' honeymoon.
We have to get rid of Kevin
somehow. He's such a dick.
Isn't he?
Well, the thing is, sir, Mr Schwimer's
actually pretty rad.
Rad? Who are you?
Look, what has this guy got
that I haven't?
Timetables. Abs.
Dress sense. A penis.
Mr Schwimer went to college
with Ashton Kutcher.
So what? Give a shit?
I've got celebrity friends, too.
My friend Atticus Hoye
was on Total Wipeout.
Mr Schwimer's a pro skater,
sir. He invented his own trick.
What else has he done?
Turned water into wine?
He's teetotal.
Jesus! As if he couldn't get
any creepier!
Kids, if I can teach you
one thing about life,
never trust a man
that doesn't drink.
Has Kevin just been
peacocking all morning?
Has he actually taught you anything?
The English kings and queens.
All of them?
That's impossible.
Five, six, seven, eight...
Willie, Willie, Harry, Stee,
Harry, Dick-John, Harry three,
one two three Neds, Richard two,
Harrys four five, six, then who?
Edwards four-five, Dick the bad, Harrys
seven-eight, Ned the Lad,
Mary, Bessie, James the Vain, Charlie,
Charlie, James again,
William Mary, Anna Gloria, Four Georges,
William and Victoria,
Edward seven next, and then
George the fifth in 1910,
Ned the eighth soon abdicated then
George the sixth was coronated,
and if you've not lost your breath,
give a cheer for Elizabeth.
Meh! When would you actually use that?
I teach you
transferable life skills,
like the rap from
Fresh Prince of Bel-Air!
In West Philadelphia,
born and raised...
Please, not again.
Stop it.
Oh!
Please help me! I hate 2J!
One of them made me...
fellate a Pritt Stick.
My mouth's still gluey.
Why don't you seduce Miss Pickwell?
Flirt your way out of it.
You can practise on me, if you like.
Please, Chantelle!
I would have to try
literally everything
before I resorted
to flirting with Pickwell.
Hey, Izz.
You're looking pretty fit today.
How do you get that lovely
natural glow to your skin?
Pumice and bleach. What do you want?
Just wanted to ask you a question.
Are you from Tennessee?
Cos you're the only
ten-ah-see.
Plans tonight? Me, you, my crib,
turn my onesie into a twosie?
Hey, was your dad a thief?
No, he was a butcher
in East Kilbride.
Because he stole the stars
and put them in your eyes.
Was your father a surgeon, because he
stole the brain of an ape
and put it into the body
of a hairy little girl.
Come, come, Iso-bel,
there's no need to be like that.
(Oh, silly me.)
30 minutes. Me on top.
Penetrative.
Those are my terms, Mr Wickers,
should you wish to screw
your way out of this.
Oh, and biting.
Lots and lots of biting.
♪ Look at me, I just can't believe what
they've done to me
♪ We could never get free
♪ I just wanna be
I just wanna be
♪ Look at me, I just can't believe what
they've done to me
♪ We could never get free
I just wanna be
♪ Look at me
♪ I just can't believe
♪ I just wanna dream,
dream... ♪
Yo, alpha male!
Hey, you know Kevin DJs?
He's coming round mine later.
I'm gonna play my mash-up of Chaka Khan
and Chaka Demus and Pliers.
It's called Chaka Chaka Demus and Khan.
Are you in?
Oh, God, no, I can't.
I've got to go home tonight and run a
bath to slit my wrists in
because someone gave my class away to
some stupid American
that they've all fallen in love with and
I'm stuck with shitty, horrible 2J.
Why have you got a recorder?
Well, I read this article
written by a freelance pest
control expert in Germany.
From what I could gather,
his method for drawing the rats away
from the villagers was this...
The Pied Piper?
Yeah, the Pied Piper!
You know him? Hm!
Mitchell, what are you guys doing?
I'm going to get Emo Elliot to lend
Mr Schwimer his skateboard.
Oi, catch the rugger
ball, Jonathan Wilkinson.
Here, surprise, sir. Do us a trick?
Er, I can't.
No, I mean, with my knees!
I mean, they're just in super
real bad shape, you know,
after the marathon.
Don't be a pussy, sir!
Yeah, go on, sir!
I bet you're amazing at it.
I'll do a trick.
Well, yeah! Yeah,
Mr Wickers will do the trick!
Can you skate?
Tony Hawkes, intermediate.
Gaming don't make you a skater,
you melt.
Rooney plays FIFA, so eat a bag of shit
for breakfast, Mitchell.
Just give me the board, dickhead.
And stand back, kids -
this school's insurance policy
doesn't cover blown minds.
Hash-tag this shit gonna be cray.
This shit gonna be
50 shades of cray.
Wick-ers, Wick-ers,
Wick-ers, Wick-ers!
Oh! Oh, shit!
You OK, buddy?
Am I dead?
Oh, Mother Theresa,
where did it all go wrong?
Sir?
Oh, hey, Jing, where are the others?
Mr Schwimer's friend
from the British Museum
lent him some weapons and armour.
They're all outside doing a Civil War
re-enactment.
Class Wars? Is nothing sacred?
I need to talk to you
about something.
It's all right. I understand.
I have to let you go.
Just promise me this.
Don't ever let that man
patronise you.
Look! My suffragette glove puppets!
"Please give me the vote. "
"Watch out for the horsey!"
Listen. Mr Schwimer
isn't who he says he is.
Jing, I get it. I'm shitty old Alfie,
he's Mr Perfect Good-Teeth
Junior the Third.
But he isn't perfect!
Look at this photo.
Something's not right.
Look.
Oh, my god. The jogger behind him
has a semi.
No, Mr Schwimer.
Mr Schwimer's got a semi?
The hand!
That's a wedding ring -
and it's a ladies arm.
Mr Schwimer isn't married...
or a lady.
I knew there was something
wrong with him from the start.
It's his eyes, right?
Too close together. No!
He said he went
to Harvard, California,
but Harvard's in
Massachusetts.
And did you see how reluctant
the pro skater was in doing a trick?
Why are you helping me, Jing?
Because I love this class. It's just not
the same without you.
You're an idiot, but you're also a nice,
kind man.
Let's destroy this bastard's life.
It's mash-up time, dedicated to my new
best buddy,
two time Superbowl winning
champion Mr Schwimer.
And one of my ancestors actually fought
in the Battle of Agincourt.
Oi! Kevin.
Yo, G.
Mr Wickers to you, mate.
It's time you confessed.
Let me see your arms.
My arms?
Oh, mi lud,
stick a shilling up me chuffer!
This is another one of your
dry, British irony jokes, right?
Stop trying to rape
Mr Schwimer, sir.
Shut up, Mitchell!
Are those your arms?
Yes.
They look pretty feminine to me.
I have slim arms.
Slim, hairless,
married ladies' arms?
Yes. Oh, funny that,
cos didn't you win a gold medal in
the Olympic rowing, right?
Um...
The US team won bronze,
and you weren't in it.
I don't even remember saying that.
You're not a pro skater, or a DJ.
Oh, and that horrible war in Malawi.
Don't bring the war into this!
You weren't there, man.
No, I wasn't. No-one was. Because
there wasn't a civil war in Malawi.
You're a pathological liar.
So, come on, Kevin, what have you got to
say for yourself?
Spit it out. We're all ears.
Sure, I exaggerate a bit.
I didn't mean to hurt anyone.
I just wanted you to like me.
Oh, God, a teacher
craving his pupils' approval?
Pathetic. Go on, piss off.
So it was all lies?
You never won the Superbowl?
You don't know Ashton?
I'll never meet Demi.
It's all fake.
The stories, the Harvard education,
this stupid plastic armour.
What? Yeah, these shitty little toy
guns.
Please be careful!
Those are actually antique.
Ooh, my name's Kevin and I've got a
buddy at the British Museum!
Argh!
They were loaded! Are you insane?
They weren't supposed to be fired!
You shot him in the arse!
Brilliant!
Oh, my God! Oh, my God!
Don't worry, Joe, it's just
a little flesh wound.
HELP! HELP!
Someone go and get help.
Does anyone know first aid?
I do. Really?
No. Oh, Jesus!
Sir, you're meant to suck
the bullet out.
No, you idiot,
you're meant to piss on it.
That's jellyfish, you tit!
Wait - that is jellyfish, right?
Lie on your front.
No. No, Jing, it's fine. I'll do it,
I'm desperate, anyway. No, sir!
Joe, just a quick one.
You know the way your mum's not a
massive fan of mine,
if she asks about this -
she might not -
could you maybe tell her that you sat on
the bullet? Argh!
Wrong moment. Help! HELP!
Sir literally gave him
a new arsehole.
Why is no-one coming?
Pass me the other gun!
Gonna put him
out of his misery, sir?
No, distress signal. Give it here.
Oh, shit. Rumsfeld!
Shit, shit, shit! Please don't be dead,
please don't be dead.
One two, one two.
Come on, Rumsfeld.
Don't fly towards the light.
Pickwell's coming. Oh, no!
Right, if anyone asks,
Kevin fired the guns.
Yup. Sure. Definitely.
That's a lie!
Is it a lie?
Or am I just exaggerating?
My baby!
I heard gunshots!
The man of steel is here
to save the day.
Are you OK, sweetheart?
My bum hurts.
Not for the first time.
Keep pressure on the wound.
What have you done?
It wasn't him, Miss Gulliver.
I fired the gun by mistake.
See, you told me my kids wouldn't take
a bullet for me, but...
Joe's a hero, miss. He threw
his arse in front of the bullet!
Yeah, his bottom was like Kevin Costner
in The Bodyguard.
Forget about the boy!
Rumsfeld!
This man has lied about everything!
Except for the bit about
shooting Joe. I'm a fraud.
But what about my mash-ups?
You said you liked them?
I didn't really.
You're dead to me.
When we confronted him, he freaked out
and turned the gun on Joe.
And then he reloaded
to shoot your pigeon.
I have a problem.
I can't help lying.
I say one thing
and then it just spirals.
I'm not even
from America. I'm from Birmingham.
Not even Birmingham, actually.
Dudley, near Tipton, you know,
off the A4123.
Sorry, everyone.
Now I've been honest, can we be buddies?
I've got a jetpack.
I flew to France on it,
all the way... Brrrrrr!
D'you want to have a go?
I'll have a go.
He's lying again, isn't he?
If you ever set foot
on these premises again,
I will personally send you back to
Dudley piece by piece.
Starting with these.
Does this mean
we get Mr Wickers back?
I think it does.
Yes!
That's right, kids,
Daddy's back for good.
And I will never, ever let you get put
in danger again,
because I am here
to protect you children.
23rd October, 1942.
The tank battle of El-Alamein.
Rommel, ready?
Monty, ready?
Three, two, one!
Oh, fuck!
It's Class Wars!
Mitchell, Rem Dogg, corridor. You're
the advancing German army.
Right, it's the 27th May, 1940.
Thousands of British troops
have been stranded
on the beaches of Dunkirk.
French beach?
Is it one of those topless ones?
No, Chantelle. Keep your
clothes on, and prepare for battle!
Hey, gang, I'm Mr Schwimer.
Er, where did you come from?
All the way from Harvard University,
sunshine state of California,
reporting for duty, sir!
Yeah, we're doing Dunkirk.
Which means you're about
four years too early, mate.
You're doing humour.
I love British humour.
Corgies with me majesty, m'lud?
Please can I have another crumpet!
All right, settle down,
everybody. Take a seat.
(Is he fucking mental?)
Oi, Dick Van Dyke.
What the hell are you doing here?
This is my class.
Didn't Miss Pickwell tell you?
I'm here to take over Form K.
Er, no, you're not,
these are my pupils.
Sorry, hombre. Not anymore.
Well, actually, yes, any more... hombre.
I'm in charge around here.
I've got their respect.
I'm like a God to them.
Sieg heil, Bastian
Schweinsteiger!
What? Dunkirk was at sea.
'Welcome to Radio Frase.
The chat quota of LBC,'
but with a host who was loved
as a child. Avengers, Assemble-y!
Last one there gets a
detention, unless it's Rem Dogg.
First announcement
on the new Tannoy, check.
Felt weird without any
trousers on.
Note to self - fake tan
and white slacks don't mix...
The Tannoy's still on, isn't it?
FEEDBACK OVER TANNOY
'Just to clarify,
I am wearing underpants. '
(Oh, God!)
Have you seen Pickwell?
God, when I see her, I'm going to
give it to her with both barrels.
Dick.
Maybe a change will do you good?
Yeah, you would say that,
cradle snatcher.
Alex is three years younger
than you. We're happy.
Get over it.
Did you have a fun weekend?
We went for a lovely, romantic meal.
A Happy Meal, was it?
What toy did she get?
If anyone's a child here, it's you.
Great.
Well, that means you can set
me and Alex up on play dates.
Well, she does have
some very fun toys.
Oh!
Hello, willkommen and awooga!
Item one. The school's got a couple of
new furry friends. And I'm not
talking about the pair of puppies
Erica Tinkler's recently acquired.
Woof woof!
♪ Who let the dogs out? ♪
Um, puberty let the dogs out.
It's normal for your bodies
to change and grow.
In fact, the other day,
I thought I found a lump.
Don't worry, nothing cancerous,
turns out it was just a knot of dead
skin in the old pork purse.
Rats. We've got rats.
Rats are really just big black mice,
like Rastamouse.
So, don't be scared of them,
and please, please, please
don't tell your parents.
Item two. The PE teacher has quit to
become a tree surgeon. I know!
Email from his lawyer
saying something about
operations on a yew tree.
Good luck to the guy.
Luckily, we've got a new signing, who's
going to be taking over
the school's worst performing
class, Special K...
um, Form K.
As the Archbishop of Banterbury, I
hereby ordain thee, Brother Schwimer.
Explosion, shrapnel.
That handshake is the best thing that's
ever happened to me.
So, a little about me.
I just got back from Malawi,
Africa,
where I was helping the victims of a
savage civil war.
But I am sure as heck pretty
darn excited to be here now
in Watford, United Kingdom.
OK, so I'm going
to be teaching history,
and helping out with the gym class.
So I guess you're wondering what
qualifies this guy to teach gym?
Yes.
Well, I did make a brief
appearance at the Olympics
here in London, England,
on Team USA.
Whoo!
What do you want? A medal?
I won gold with the coxless four.
Now I want to give you guys
a taste of the good old US of A.
But I will leave
the school food to you.
I'm not saying my students back home
were chunky or anything,
but I could catch them skipping class on
Google Earth.
LAUGHTER
Let's hope they keep the gun
culture at home as well, mate.
We all know why they keep their kids
so fat. Bigger targets.
High school massacres?
Am I right?
Yeah?
Come on - he's yanking your chain.
Gallows humour.
Throw him in the bloody Tower with
Saint Arthur of the Round Lake.
Classic!
Someone lock this guy up in
Bant-anamo Bay! Hey. Timberlake?
Oh! Who's with me?
I love Justin Timberlake.
Mr Wickers not with you?
Why, do you want him?
I don't "want" him.
I just thought he'd be yapping
around your cankles
like some over-excited puppy that needs
a good spade to the genitals.
Just to clarify, because I don't want
you misreading any signals,
it may shock you to learn that
a sexual carnivore like myself
was, for a spell, herbivorous.
Well, I don't understand a word of what
you just said but I'm guessing
it's something to do with the
fact I've got a girlfriend?
I understand your surprise now,
but this velociraptor couldn't wolf down
the caper bush for ever.
Are you trying to flirt with me?
No! No, no, no. Women cannot live
on pitta alone.
I need a little kofte in my kebab.
Well, I'm sure that comes as a relief
to many, many men.
I want you to know that I am...
(back on solids.)
Phew.
We need to talk about Kevin.
You can talk to me
about anything you want.
My door is so open,
it's off its hinges.
Yeah, I get it. Very clever.
Why didn't you tell me
I was losing my class?
After that fire
at the swimming gala,
Pickwell has got my jolly pink
giant by the scruff of its neck.
She said either I hire Kevin
or she reports me to various
child welfare agencies,
none of which are mahusive fans
of Super-F.
Well, I don't care
where I have to take this fight -
I'm getting my kids back.
Oh, BT dubs, if you're planning a
Fathers for Justice-style protest,
I've got wide a variety of superhero
costumes you could borrow.
The only one I can't lend you
is the Superman one.
Why not?
How long have you been
wearing that?
Every day for four years. In case I need
to save the school bus.
Buttons, buttons...
Where are the buttons?
Right, look, you can't just give
my class away.
Can too. Can not.
Can can, can can.
I can do the can can.
Yeah, well, I've spoken to them and
my class want me back.
They would take a bullet for me.
Ha! I find that hard to believe.
What the hell is that?
OK. Right, you are aware this
isn't Hogwarts?
Mr Wickers, meet Rumsfeld.
Rumsfeld, meet Mr Wickers.
Why is there an owl on your arm?
Well, Mr Fraser's attempts
to eradicate the vermin
have, thus far, been
unsuccessful, so...
An owl is the solution?
Well, I wanted to use mustard gas, but
some precious Red Tape Susan
said that sulphur-based cytotoxins and
children are incompatible.
Hence, Rumsfeld and I
are hunting rats...
Oh, and there's one
in particular that's so grubby,
even turds retch as they glide past him
in the sewer.
OK, well, I assume I'm that rat in that
little pooey analogy of yours.
But let me tell you this, there
is
absolutely no way on Earth that I'm
going to stand by and watch you...
Cheep, cheep, cheep. Would you like to
meet your new form now?
Fine.
I'm teaching 2J?
Putting me in there is like
putting Justin Bieber
on the main stage at Reading.
They'll murder me.
Remember - don't look them
in the eye.
Oh, and the smell of urine? They're just
marking their territory.
As I walk through the valley of
the shadow of death...
I take a look at my life
and realise there's nothing left
Cos I've been laughin' and blastin'
so long that even my momma
thinks that my mind is gone.
I didn't know you were a
Coolio fan!
It's the Bible. Psalm 23.
Whatever. It's definitely Coolio.
It's a tune, though,
I'll give you that.
Oh, I forgot to mention,
they're studying this.
Right.
Listen up, you little bastards.
Before we begin, I want to
make one thing crystal clear.
I could kick the shit out of you
in a fight.
And don't think that I wouldn't just
because you're smaller than me
and some of you are little girls.
Any questions? No. Thought not.
Beowulf, chapter one.
In hildy-fildy pildy harque-wun
pur-pon diddly dee di
diddle-um dee didly dom...
Six minutes, 17 seconds.
They're monsters! They're 11.
Just think of it as babysitting.
I'm not a babysitter.
No, of course you're not.
They are babysitting you.
I see visions of me dead.
Lord, are you there?
The Bible? Tupac.
No, please!
A little orphan looked up at
me and said...
Nicola Berti's been stabbed!
Don't worry, I know first aid.
She's bleeding out by
the school gates. Go, quick!
Go. Go.
Okey-dokey, time for a little chat.
Is Nicola going to die?
Nicola?
Oh, no, that was just something I said
to get rid of Kevin of Nazareth.
Gullible! So not LOL, sir.
What's that?
Mr Schwimer ran the New York Marathon
for Protect the Rhino.
Protect the rhino?
They're basically dinosaurs!
I think they can look after
themselves.
I have been thinking long and hard about
how I'm going to get you back.
I have considered
every possible option -
and I'm going to need one of you to say
that Kevin touched you.
A little fiddle. Anyone?
Oh, God, you guys are so square!
Joe?
Your new haircut's given you
a kind of choirboy vibe.
They tend to dig that look.
No way.
I just want my class back.
What am I going to do?
Cut and run? Take me to France, sir.
Overnight ferry, shack up in Bordeaux,
let the man-hunt begin.
Come and get us, Interpol.
I've got a plan to get rid of him, sir.
Shoot. Right!
We're going to need a van,
some cable ties and an alibi.
Oh! Mitchell, we're not re-enacting your
parents' honeymoon.
We have to get rid of Kevin
somehow. He's such a dick.
Isn't he?
Well, the thing is, sir, Mr Schwimer's
actually pretty rad.
Rad? Who are you?
Look, what has this guy got
that I haven't?
Timetables. Abs.
Dress sense. A penis.
Mr Schwimer went to college
with Ashton Kutcher.
So what? Give a shit?
I've got celebrity friends, too.
My friend Atticus Hoye
was on Total Wipeout.
Mr Schwimer's a pro skater,
sir. He invented his own trick.
What else has he done?
Turned water into wine?
He's teetotal.
Jesus! As if he couldn't get
any creepier!
Kids, if I can teach you
one thing about life,
never trust a man
that doesn't drink.
Has Kevin just been
peacocking all morning?
Has he actually taught you anything?
The English kings and queens.
All of them?
That's impossible.
Five, six, seven, eight...
Willie, Willie, Harry, Stee,
Harry, Dick-John, Harry three,
one two three Neds, Richard two,
Harrys four five, six, then who?
Edwards four-five, Dick the bad, Harrys
seven-eight, Ned the Lad,
Mary, Bessie, James the Vain, Charlie,
Charlie, James again,
William Mary, Anna Gloria, Four Georges,
William and Victoria,
Edward seven next, and then
George the fifth in 1910,
Ned the eighth soon abdicated then
George the sixth was coronated,
and if you've not lost your breath,
give a cheer for Elizabeth.
Meh! When would you actually use that?
I teach you
transferable life skills,
like the rap from
Fresh Prince of Bel-Air!
In West Philadelphia,
born and raised...
Please, not again.
Stop it.
Oh!
Please help me! I hate 2J!
One of them made me...
fellate a Pritt Stick.
My mouth's still gluey.
Why don't you seduce Miss Pickwell?
Flirt your way out of it.
You can practise on me, if you like.
Please, Chantelle!
I would have to try
literally everything
before I resorted
to flirting with Pickwell.
Hey, Izz.
You're looking pretty fit today.
How do you get that lovely
natural glow to your skin?
Pumice and bleach. What do you want?
Just wanted to ask you a question.
Are you from Tennessee?
Cos you're the only
ten-ah-see.
Plans tonight? Me, you, my crib,
turn my onesie into a twosie?
Hey, was your dad a thief?
No, he was a butcher
in East Kilbride.
Because he stole the stars
and put them in your eyes.
Was your father a surgeon, because he
stole the brain of an ape
and put it into the body
of a hairy little girl.
Come, come, Iso-bel,
there's no need to be like that.
(Oh, silly me.)
30 minutes. Me on top.
Penetrative.
Those are my terms, Mr Wickers,
should you wish to screw
your way out of this.
Oh, and biting.
Lots and lots of biting.
♪ Look at me, I just can't believe what
they've done to me
♪ We could never get free
♪ I just wanna be
I just wanna be
♪ Look at me, I just can't believe what
they've done to me
♪ We could never get free
I just wanna be
♪ Look at me
♪ I just can't believe
♪ I just wanna dream,
dream... ♪
Yo, alpha male!
Hey, you know Kevin DJs?
He's coming round mine later.
I'm gonna play my mash-up of Chaka Khan
and Chaka Demus and Pliers.
It's called Chaka Chaka Demus and Khan.
Are you in?
Oh, God, no, I can't.
I've got to go home tonight and run a
bath to slit my wrists in
because someone gave my class away to
some stupid American
that they've all fallen in love with and
I'm stuck with shitty, horrible 2J.
Why have you got a recorder?
Well, I read this article
written by a freelance pest
control expert in Germany.
From what I could gather,
his method for drawing the rats away
from the villagers was this...
The Pied Piper?
Yeah, the Pied Piper!
You know him? Hm!
Mitchell, what are you guys doing?
I'm going to get Emo Elliot to lend
Mr Schwimer his skateboard.
Oi, catch the rugger
ball, Jonathan Wilkinson.
Here, surprise, sir. Do us a trick?
Er, I can't.
No, I mean, with my knees!
I mean, they're just in super
real bad shape, you know,
after the marathon.
Don't be a pussy, sir!
Yeah, go on, sir!
I bet you're amazing at it.
I'll do a trick.
Well, yeah! Yeah,
Mr Wickers will do the trick!
Can you skate?
Tony Hawkes, intermediate.
Gaming don't make you a skater,
you melt.
Rooney plays FIFA, so eat a bag of shit
for breakfast, Mitchell.
Just give me the board, dickhead.
And stand back, kids -
this school's insurance policy
doesn't cover blown minds.
Hash-tag this shit gonna be cray.
This shit gonna be
50 shades of cray.
Wick-ers, Wick-ers,
Wick-ers, Wick-ers!
Oh! Oh, shit!
You OK, buddy?
Am I dead?
Oh, Mother Theresa,
where did it all go wrong?
Sir?
Oh, hey, Jing, where are the others?
Mr Schwimer's friend
from the British Museum
lent him some weapons and armour.
They're all outside doing a Civil War
re-enactment.
Class Wars? Is nothing sacred?
I need to talk to you
about something.
It's all right. I understand.
I have to let you go.
Just promise me this.
Don't ever let that man
patronise you.
Look! My suffragette glove puppets!
"Please give me the vote. "
"Watch out for the horsey!"
Listen. Mr Schwimer
isn't who he says he is.
Jing, I get it. I'm shitty old Alfie,
he's Mr Perfect Good-Teeth
Junior the Third.
But he isn't perfect!
Look at this photo.
Something's not right.
Look.
Oh, my god. The jogger behind him
has a semi.
No, Mr Schwimer.
Mr Schwimer's got a semi?
The hand!
That's a wedding ring -
and it's a ladies arm.
Mr Schwimer isn't married...
or a lady.
I knew there was something
wrong with him from the start.
It's his eyes, right?
Too close together. No!
He said he went
to Harvard, California,
but Harvard's in
Massachusetts.
And did you see how reluctant
the pro skater was in doing a trick?
Why are you helping me, Jing?
Because I love this class. It's just not
the same without you.
You're an idiot, but you're also a nice,
kind man.
Let's destroy this bastard's life.
It's mash-up time, dedicated to my new
best buddy,
two time Superbowl winning
champion Mr Schwimer.
And one of my ancestors actually fought
in the Battle of Agincourt.
Oi! Kevin.
Yo, G.
Mr Wickers to you, mate.
It's time you confessed.
Let me see your arms.
My arms?
Oh, mi lud,
stick a shilling up me chuffer!
This is another one of your
dry, British irony jokes, right?
Stop trying to rape
Mr Schwimer, sir.
Shut up, Mitchell!
Are those your arms?
Yes.
They look pretty feminine to me.
I have slim arms.
Slim, hairless,
married ladies' arms?
Yes. Oh, funny that,
cos didn't you win a gold medal in
the Olympic rowing, right?
Um...
The US team won bronze,
and you weren't in it.
I don't even remember saying that.
You're not a pro skater, or a DJ.
Oh, and that horrible war in Malawi.
Don't bring the war into this!
You weren't there, man.
No, I wasn't. No-one was. Because
there wasn't a civil war in Malawi.
You're a pathological liar.
So, come on, Kevin, what have you got to
say for yourself?
Spit it out. We're all ears.
Sure, I exaggerate a bit.
I didn't mean to hurt anyone.
I just wanted you to like me.
Oh, God, a teacher
craving his pupils' approval?
Pathetic. Go on, piss off.
So it was all lies?
You never won the Superbowl?
You don't know Ashton?
I'll never meet Demi.
It's all fake.
The stories, the Harvard education,
this stupid plastic armour.
What? Yeah, these shitty little toy
guns.
Please be careful!
Those are actually antique.
Ooh, my name's Kevin and I've got a
buddy at the British Museum!
Argh!
They were loaded! Are you insane?
They weren't supposed to be fired!
You shot him in the arse!
Brilliant!
Oh, my God! Oh, my God!
Don't worry, Joe, it's just
a little flesh wound.
HELP! HELP!
Someone go and get help.
Does anyone know first aid?
I do. Really?
No. Oh, Jesus!
Sir, you're meant to suck
the bullet out.
No, you idiot,
you're meant to piss on it.
That's jellyfish, you tit!
Wait - that is jellyfish, right?
Lie on your front.
No. No, Jing, it's fine. I'll do it,
I'm desperate, anyway. No, sir!
Joe, just a quick one.
You know the way your mum's not a
massive fan of mine,
if she asks about this -
she might not -
could you maybe tell her that you sat on
the bullet? Argh!
Wrong moment. Help! HELP!
Sir literally gave him
a new arsehole.
Why is no-one coming?
Pass me the other gun!
Gonna put him
out of his misery, sir?
No, distress signal. Give it here.
Oh, shit. Rumsfeld!
Shit, shit, shit! Please don't be dead,
please don't be dead.
One two, one two.
Come on, Rumsfeld.
Don't fly towards the light.
Pickwell's coming. Oh, no!
Right, if anyone asks,
Kevin fired the guns.
Yup. Sure. Definitely.
That's a lie!
Is it a lie?
Or am I just exaggerating?
My baby!
I heard gunshots!
The man of steel is here
to save the day.
Are you OK, sweetheart?
My bum hurts.
Not for the first time.
Keep pressure on the wound.
What have you done?
It wasn't him, Miss Gulliver.
I fired the gun by mistake.
See, you told me my kids wouldn't take
a bullet for me, but...
Joe's a hero, miss. He threw
his arse in front of the bullet!
Yeah, his bottom was like Kevin Costner
in The Bodyguard.
Forget about the boy!
Rumsfeld!
This man has lied about everything!
Except for the bit about
shooting Joe. I'm a fraud.
But what about my mash-ups?
You said you liked them?
I didn't really.
You're dead to me.
When we confronted him, he freaked out
and turned the gun on Joe.
And then he reloaded
to shoot your pigeon.
I have a problem.
I can't help lying.
I say one thing
and then it just spirals.
I'm not even
from America. I'm from Birmingham.
Not even Birmingham, actually.
Dudley, near Tipton, you know,
off the A4123.
Sorry, everyone.
Now I've been honest, can we be buddies?
I've got a jetpack.
I flew to France on it,
all the way... Brrrrrr!
D'you want to have a go?
I'll have a go.
He's lying again, isn't he?
If you ever set foot
on these premises again,
I will personally send you back to
Dudley piece by piece.
Starting with these.
Does this mean
we get Mr Wickers back?
I think it does.
Yes!
That's right, kids,
Daddy's back for good.
And I will never, ever let you get put
in danger again,
because I am here
to protect you children.
23rd October, 1942.
The tank battle of El-Alamein.
Rommel, ready?
Monty, ready?
Three, two, one!
Oh, fuck!