Stag (2016–…): Season 1, Episode 1 - Episode 1 - full transcript
Somewhat warily mild-mannered teacher Ian joins the stag party for his sister's groom-to-be , the hearty Johnners, in the Scottish highlands and soon suspects that Johnner's boorish clique, led by obnoxious best man Ledge, see him as an outsider, ripe for humiliation. Their plans for a stag hunt are disrupted when, at night and in the pouring rain, they are abandoned by their game-keeper guide and three of their group killed . Ledge sees Ian as being involved until he leads them to the comparative safety of a house - where a shotgun is pointed at them
Yes!
You shouldn't be here.
Cheers. I'll be two minutes.
Evening.
Good evening. Um...
I'm with the stag party from London.
Are they here yet?
# I'm still standing
Better than I ever did
# Looking like a true survivor
Feeling like a little kid
# I'm still standing
After all this time...
# I'm still standing
# Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Angus! Johnners!
Holy crap!
Hello...
..mate.
It's Ian.
Your future...brother-in-law.
I'm here for the stag.
'This is bullshit.'
He's taken Christophe's place.
Christophe's not coming?
Didn't reply to the e-mails.
What about Runcie?
Runcie's still in prison.
This is the best
we could come up with.
Listen, Ledge, I know it's
tradition to have a stripper,
and I know it's tradition
to book a dwarf,
but let's not combine the two, eh?
It's freaking me out.
You're Ledge?
Your invite said black tie.
Bring it - not arrive in it.
And what happened to meeting
at the crossroads?
It's raining is what happened.
I sent the man to fetch you.
Hey!
I'm not joking.
Put it in a cab.
Thank you.
Next time we dine, it'll be
on fresh venison. Right, guys?
Everyone, everybody, listen. Chaps,
chaps, chaps, chaps! Stag's talking!
When the stag's talking,
shut the hell up. That's a rule, OK?
Mexico, write it down.
OK. Everybody, this is Ian.
Er, Fran's big brother.
How small is Fran?
Ian, this is Ledge.
Best man. Oldest buddy.
Ludgrove. Harrow. Durham.
Deutsche Bank.
This is Mexican. He works on the
floor below us. Aitken. Prep school.
Neils,
he works for the Copenhagen office.
Yeah! Denmark!
Cosmo, er, known him since halls.
Does...something in the media.
Development producer.
Then, of course, there's Wendy,
who looks after our books.
Oh, what, like some
sort of freelance librarian?
No. He's just our accountant.
Ah, yeah. Sorry. Yeah.
Ooh. Actually,...
Sorry, I ordered a non-meat option.
On a hunting holiday?
Well, to be honest, I won't be
taking part in any of the...
death.
I'm not a blood sportsman.
A blood sports man.
What the hell
are you doing here, then?
Uh...
Er, Ian was just telling me
how he was going to drink you all
under the table.
"Pussies" was the word
I think he used.
Wendy...
You better knock that back.
You're on catch-up.
Perky pinkie, don't forget.
Sorry, what?
You have to have your little finger
up when you drink. Stag rules.
All right.
Hurray!
Ah. I'm not a big drinker,
to be honest. That was...
Plus, the gamekeeper's outside.
Seemed like he wanted to get going.
Then, you'd better drink up.
Hey! 'Hey! Just checking you found
the guys all right?'
I did do. 'Yeah. They take a bit of
working out, don't they?'
Not for me. I've only been
with them five minutes
and I already know
exactly what kind of guys they are.
There you go. For 2K, all-in,
we're guaranteed a weekend's
worth of pure man-shit, my friends.
Sleeping rough, hanging tough,
stalking a prime red deer stag
across the Highlands
and shooting it in the tits.
Come on!
Of course, I know the REAL reason
you're ringing. 'You do?'
You're worried I'm going to lead
Angus astray. 'Ha-ha! Yeah, right.
'Seriously, Ian, I need your help
on this.
'Can you just look after him
for me?'
You want ME to look after HIM?
'We've not been together that long.
'I don't know his mates that well.
'Or what they've got in store
for him.'
Fran... 'I mean,
is he even dressed appropriately?
'Just promise me you'll make sure
he comes back in one piece.'
Fran. He'll be fine. 'Promise me.'
Promise.
'Ian!'
I promise.
OK. Bye. Bye.
They've left without paying.
Oh! I'll go and get them.
No, you won't.
What's to say you won't
just leave with them?
It's not really my bill, anyway.
I've hardly drunk anything.
You've drunk the most.
ã580?
W-what...?
Come on, then.
Play on, Centurion.
I'm just waiting on a connection.
Yeah.
Argh!
Wait!
You forgot me! Hey, guys! Wait!
Guys! You forgot me!
Guys!
Aw. Shall we let him in?
Nah. Fuck him!
Come on, then! Come on, then!
RADIO: 'Cromarty, Forth.
Southwest seven to severe gale nine.
'Bearing west.
Gale eight to storm ten.
'Rain...'
What about some music?
RADIO PLAYS
Message In A Bottle by The Police
Whoo! Yeah!
Right. La questionnaire. 40
questions about Tom Thumb's sister.
What she's like in the sack
and so on.
Oh! Hit me, hit me!
Right. Question numero uno.
When's Fran's birthday?
Oh! Come on! Too easy.
He doesn't know.
I do. But it's boring.
Where are the good questions?
Come on!
OK. Numero...two.
Gillette, Tussauds, or Sherwood?
Oh! Whoo!
I don't understand.
Your sister's front garden.
Is it Gillette, Tussauds
or the Forest of Sherwood?
Her private parts!
Is she shaven, waxed, or unkempt?
Urgh! I'm not gonna answer that!
He's not saying he doesn't know! Oh!
No!
River says no.
Pardon me?
She's flooded and we're too heavy.
This is the only way in.
There'll be no hunting this weekend.
Now, hang on, matey.
What are we paying you for?
If we'd been here earlier,
there wouldn't have been a problem.
We would have been here earlier
if we didn't have to wait
for the Penguin.
Yeah, 003.5. Croupier Gollum.
I was late because you left me
at the meeting point, right?
Just like you let me in the pub
when I was busy paying your bill.
All ã600 of it.
So, let's be clear,
you've never waited for me once.
Oooh!
Guys! Stag's talking, everyone.
There's bound to be a lot of banter
this weekend. OK, it's us,
so it comes with the territory,
but keep it light, OK?
No-one need get injured. Have a
little respect for your fellow man.
Driver!
Is there any way, any way at all,
we can get across
this "wee burn" here?
Right.
When you're all across,
I'll follow in the vehicle.
If you do get washed away
and you survive,
make sure you get out this side.
There's far fewer stags
this side of the water.
Stags are good, though, aren't they?
Not without a gun, they're not.
And when will we be allowed to have
one of those?
Out of interest.
If a stag sees you,
he'll either attack you
if he thinks you're a rival.
Or if he thinks you're a female...
..he will rape you.
Any questions?
Is this definitely the only way?
No.
We can cross at the old dam but
that's a seven-hour hike from there.
Er, how do we get back again?
When the river lets you.
GASPING AND GROANING
So, ITV2 are this close
to commissioning
How To Look Good Homeless,
and I'm marooned in some Third-World
grotto that can't even muster 2G!
It's a travesty.
A bloody travesty.
My bag!
Got to keep moving!
My bag! It's all my stuff!
Come on! Come on!
Yeah, get a McMove on!
You're supposed to take us hunting,
not stand around looking Scottish!
Probably too full of Mars Bars
and batter to move, isn't he?!
Come on! In your own time! Come on!
He's abandoning us!
He's taking a run-up, you moron!
That's a considerable run-up.
Don't suppose anybody's got
any spare clothes?
I need it back for
the dinner on Sunday, OK? Yes.
It's never on the news, is it -
stags on trial for rape and that?
Just scare-mongering,
that's all that was.
Is it rape if they don't understand
the word "no"?
Probably just...a lumberjack
chopping trees.
At 11.30 at night?
Wait! Stop! This is ridiculous!
Where are we even going?
Ledge?
I don't know. But you're best man!
Best men can't do everything.
And don't give me that look.
Not one of you bastards RSVP'd
to the original e-vite and now you
come at me with all this shit.
Where are you taking us, mate?
I'm not taking us anywhere!
I took us to the pub,
met the gamekeeper.
That's what it said to do
and then HE takes it from there.
But now the gamekeeper has gone.
Nothing gets past
Peter Schmeichel(!)
Don't take it out on him.
What was wrong with indoor golf
and a boozy lunch in Battersea?
That's what I want to know.
Come on, Ledge.
What are we going to do?
We could always...
Well, we could always...
pitch camp...in that clearing...
..light a fire, have a few beers
and get our bearings in the morning?
In the a.m.
All right.
After you.
Good.
Nice one, Ian.
'Thermal what?'
Fear Mor.
It's all over the internet.
How have you got data?
I haven't got data.
This is SO unfair.
The Fear Mor.
It's, like, this Scottish giant.
Hides in the mist.
Comes out of nowhere.
I read about this guy, who was
just here on a rambling holiday,
minding his own beeswax...
..and he got ripped apart
like a rag-doll.
I'm telling you...
this thing is evil.
Like Sasquatch?
No, not really.
More like the BFG...
..but without the F.
A Bee Gee?
Neils, you idiot!
What?
What did you just say?
What did Johnners say about respect?
I think, Ian,
you probably owe Neils an apology.
Yeah!
This is a... This is a bit,
isn't it? We're doing a thing.
"Goes with the territory."
This isn't a thing.
Sorry, Neils.
What a bag of dicks.
Maybe you should leave.
I'm sorry, I...
No. It's fine.
I feel exactly the same way.
These are the worst kind of people.
I thought you'd been friends
with them since school?
That's how I know they're
the worst kind of people.
Here. What's that? It's the kitty.
What we owe you from the pub.
There's ã800 there,
plus Ledge's Coutts card.
When the gamekeeper comes back,
get him to take you back to the pub.
From there, you get a cab
and you take that cab
all the way back to London.
Eastbourne. Wherever you want.
In fact, do you know what?
I'll come with you.
We'll go as a duo, the two of us.
A pair. We'll run. No. Yes!
I can't. Let's go! Come on. I can't.
Come on. We can nip out
the back door... Flap.
I can't, all right?
I made a promise...to my sister.
I'm staying.
OK. Well, in that case,
we stick together.
We watch each other's backs,
because that is the only way
you're going to get through this.
You got it?
Have you got it, Ian? Yes.
Yes, I have, thank you.
Right, let's get back out there.
Sorry, can I just... Yep.
Sorry. Sorry, Ian.
OK.
Everybody...grab a tin.
Hold on.
OK...rolling!
Right...first order of business...
..no calls, no cameras, no e-mails.
It's time to lock this down.
That jumped-up Jock thought
he could leave us to perish.
He didn't think we'd survive
a second.
Even me?
But look at us...
We didn't just survive. We thrived!
We've built a camp! We've made fire!
ALL: Yeah!
We're seven Bear Grylls...
..with a monkey butler.
What will happen over the next
72 hours will change us as men.
We will be defined by our time
in these hills,
on these heaths.
And when we get home, we will say -
to people that we trust and without
giving away too many details -
that we saw off our friend in style!
Wait, wait, wait...
That this was the stag
to end all stags!
Yeah!
The stag-hunting stag
of Angus "Johnners" Johnson,
the best friend a man could have!
Hold that, Aitken.
Best man can't do everything.
Now, ladies...
..I'd like you to raise
your drink...
And your pinkies. Thank you, Mexico.
Allow me to make
the first of many toasts...
..to the kill!
ALL: To the kill!
The kill.
WHOOSH, THUMP
Aitken?
Oh, that IS a shame.
Argh!
Jesus Christ!
Aitken!
What did I miss?
What the hell even was that?
It looked like some kind of claw.
Maybe it's all part of it. Part
of the stag package, right, Ledge?
Yeah, like some kind of practical
joke. It wasn't on the website.
Seriously, guys...
He could have survived.
We gave him dead legs
and Chinese burns
all the way through prep school
and it never seemed to bother him.
We should get going.
Quite right. Let's get going.
I'm colder than Walt Disney.
Wait!
Shouldn't we go back?
He's your friend.
Besides, you said so yourself,
the poor guy might not be dead.
OK, you're right.
But it doesn't really
feel like a seven-man job, does it?
Well, come on, then.
So, erm, "Wendy". Is that...
Is that like a nickname
they gave you at school?
I wasn't at school with them.
This has to be
the worst stag weekend ever.
You weren't in Zagreb.
What happened in Zagreb?
I get it. What happens in Zagreb
stays in Zagreb.
Or Prague or Amsterdam
or Dusseldorf.
They're all horrific.
That lot have more money than sense.
So, if these weekends are so bad,
why did you come?
Mate, have you got kids?
I've got three. Triplets.
IVF nightmare.
Like buses.
Really expensive buses.
I only come on these stupid trips
to escape.
The problem is, as soon
as I get away from the kids...
..I miss 'em like hell.
Left or right?
Whoever finds him...
..or whatever's left of him,
shouts to the other one
and we meet back here.
What do we shout?
"Argh."
Want to practise it before we go?
There's no need.
You should practise it.
Argh.
Argh!
No?
ARGH!
Bloody hell.
'Ah, to hell with it.'
I was going to save these
for Sunday,
but we may as well break these
bad boys out of jail now, eh?
Right, question number five...
I don't want to answer any more
questions about my sex life, OK?!
Because it's not what it was
with that ex of yours. Sophie!
Ah! Crazy in the head
and crazy in bed.
How would YOU know?
Shagged her at Glasto,
during Mumford & Sons, didn't he?
It's all water
under the Chelsea Bridge, mate.
Anyway, you're wrong.
It was Ed Sheeran.
Dirty ginger bastard.
Hello?
It's me.
It's Wendy. Are you there?
Wendy!
WENDY!
I'VE FOUND THE LEGS!
He's been separated.
Aitken. Separated.
Oh, God!
Where's Wendy?
I don't know.
Did you find the bag of phones?
I don't know.
Either you did or you didn't. Is he
waiting down there? I don't know!
Forget Wendy.
Look at Aitken.
Oh, this is fucked-up.
You know what's REALLY fucked-up?
This is awful.
This is just so awful.
What in God's name is happening?!
Who the hell is doing this to us?
And why?!
Guys, just grab the bare minimum.
This isn't a jolly.
All we're doing is leaving, OK?
Right, let's do this. Ledge.
Right, um... OK.
Eh... Let me think...
If only Christophe was here,
he'd know what to do.
Well, he's NOT here, is he?
Right. Good. OK.
So, we keep things simple.
We pick a line,
a straight line, and we stick to it.
It never fails. The Romans did it.
Crows do it.
Eh, Forrest Gump did it.
Bang goes my plan of zigzagging
our way out of here.
A line in which direction? Think
about it. Where do most people live?
China?
South. England is south of here.
Exactly. Africa is south of here.
Yes, that's also true. Not quite
as useful, but the point remains,
we head south,
we are BOUND to bump into someone.
Which way is south?
Why ask him?
He can barely see over the bracken.
He's a geography teacher.
What, in real life?
We can, erm,
use the sun, to navigate.
Old sailing trick.
Rises in the west, sets in the east.
Other way round.
Other way round. Exactly.
Who needs Christophe, eh? Right.
Everyone, strap on, follow me,
keeping the sun on your left.
Good work, buddy. Took the words
right out of my mouth.
Do crows fly south? If they find
themselves in Scotland, they do.
Come on.
Don't you think we should just...
maybe, just bury the legs?
And what?
Give the man two graves?
Not on my watch.
In the fullness of time, we will
find his chest, arms and head.
And when we find his chest,
arms and head... Torso. What?
Torso.
Please don't interrupt me, Ian. OK.
When we find
his chest, arms and head...
..we will bury him whole.
It's a question of dignity. OK.
But, maybe, for now, we could...
What? ..you know,
just...pop them in a bag?
'One, two, three...'
It's beautiful up here. Yes.
Yes.
Argh!
Happy? Cool.
Off you go, then.
What? It's your bag, isn't it?
Yes, but I'm not touching it.
I'm not going anywhere near it.
Might be a bomb in it.
Why have you brought a bomb
with you, mate?
No, I'm saying that,
obviously, it's a trap.
We should keep well clear.
Come off it, a trap?
Well, it didn't just
wheel itself here, did it?
Somebody has put it there. Who?
Whoever's doing all of this.
The gamekeeper.
I mean,
that IS who's doing all this, right?
But why, though?
Somebody must have got up his nose.
Sorry, uh, was that for MY benefit?
I'm just thinking,
it could have been you that he was
aiming at when he shot Aitken.
You had been talking down to him
all night. "Talking down"?
As if he worked for you.
He did. And not hard enough.
The man had an appalling work ethic.
I'm sorry to be the one
to give YOU the geography lesson,
but he's on the wrong side
of the river, so it can't be him.
You think the hard-as-nuts
gamekeeper couldn't have made it
across the river in his Land Rover,
when we made it across naked?
Still doesn't explain Wendy, though,
does it?
What about those freaks
back at that boozer?
The foxy waitress. The chef.
The farmers playing snooker.
What about the Fear Mor?
Think about it -
the way they were dragged away,
chopped in half like watermelons.
Enough of the Gruffalo bullshit.
Stop it! This is EXACTLY what
the gamekeeper wants -
to mess with our heads.
Ian, what is in
your cheap-looking bag? Er...
I dunno. Erm... Cripes... OK...
An alarm clock, travel adaptor,
pyjamas, change of socks,
my Kindle, bottle of Shy-raz.
a tube of Pringles...
Whoa, whoa, whoa! Back up.
What was that? Pringles. Spicy BBQ -
not everyone's cup of tea...
No, no, the other one.
A bottle of Shy-raz?
Shy-raz?
And this "Shy-raz", Ian... Yeah.
..is it screw-top or cork?
Screw-top, I think.
Christ, is there no decency?
Au contraire, Ledge.
Unless you're packing a corkscrew,
the wee man's cheapskatery
may a blessing from above!
I've got a mouth like Gandhi's
sandal and, given the fact that
we're meant to have a fresh bevvies
in our hand every half-hour...
To be fair,
that IS in here somewhere.
..then, by my watch,
the time is, er...
Ooh!
O-wine-hundred.
Guys...
if Cosmo wants the Shiraz...
Cosmo gets the Shiraz.
Uh-huh!
(I think it's actually
pronounced Shy-raz.
(It's no big deal.)
Easy...
Whoa!
Whoo! Bravo!
Down the hatch!
Oh, shitfuck!
HE COUGHS
HE GROANS
METALLIC CREAK
METALLIC THUNK
And I never had that drink
with Nick Knowles.
Holy crap, he's dead.
ECHOING: No, he's not. He's fine.
Cosmo, mate, don't go anywhere!
What's your body weight?
Why?
Why?
Why?!
GROANING
You've got a phone!
No.
You've had that all this time!
Please.
The others will kill me.
If they don't get killed first.
Why didn't you call the police?
I haven't had any bloody signal.
Listen, pal...
THEY GROAN
I'm as broke as it comes, OK?
The others, they...
They talked me into sinking
all my cash into some stupid
offshore scheme in Guernsey.
And that's why everything is pinned
on How To Look Good Homeless.
What?
Caroline Flack gives botox
and bling to six lucky tramps
from across the UK.
Now,
if I don't get the call from ITV2...
I lose the lot.
HMRC has my cock on a block.
And you have blood on your hands.
THEY GROAN
This isn't working. Maybe we should
just leave them and save ourselves.
We can hear you, you know!
Oh, come on, Cosmo, don't pretend
you wouldn't do the same.
If you go without me...
I'll tell everyone
your Chatroulette story.
OK, fellas. Put your back into it.
THEY GROAN LOUDER
COSMO GASPS
Is that a splint?
Wait, wait, the wine.
Oh...
We'll have to send someone back.
No need.
THEY CHEER
Stop.
The alcohol should go to Cosmo.
The man is injured and right now,
this supermarket Shiraz
is the closest thing we've got
to an anaesthetic.
Well, it's day one of
medical school, isn't it?
COSMO LAUGHS
Wait... Why do I need an anaes...?
No.
No, no, no, NO!
CRACK!
Argh!
COSMO: It's a very nice drop, this,
actually, Ian.
ã6.99.
It's very drinkable.
MEXICAN: Yeah, clearly.
Hey, this is a serious bloody
injury, I'll have you know.
Yeah, minor miracle
you're still standing.
# You can never know what it's like
# Your blood like winter
freezes just like ice
# And there's a cold, lonely light
that shines from you
# You'll wind up
like that wreck you hide
# Behind that mask you use
♪ And did you think this fool
could never win? ♪
Yeah!
# Well, look at me,
I'm coming back again
# I got a taste of love
in a simple way
# And if you need to know while
I'm still standing
# You just fade away
# Don't you know I'm still standing?
# After all this time
# Picking up the pieces of my life
without you on my mind
# I'm still standing
# Yeah, yeah, yeah!
# I'm still standing
♪ Yeah, yeah, yeah! ♪
Bit of a secret Elton fan, then?
What's that supposed to mean?
It's not supposed to mean anything.
With the help of Bernie Taupin,
Elton John writes good songs.
I agree. That's his job.
I know.
I wasn't saying you're a...
Not that I have anything against...
You don't know me.
You don't know my friends.
They call me The Mexican,
and I'll take that.
Do you understand?
Yeah.
Is anyone else getting that?
You guys getting that?
THEY SNIFF
Genius, mate!
THEY CHEER
Guys...
What did I say?
What did I tell you, hmm?
"Head south and ye shall find."
Well, there's no-one here.
If there isn't a phone here,
at least one,
I'm a chocolate kettle, I really am.
HE SIGHS
These are our...
This isn't someone else's...
Been walking in a huge circle.
Oh, fuck!
It's not your fault, mate.
Well, in fairness,
who else is to blame?
Oh, Sugar Puffs.
Sugar Puffs? I'll give you fucking
Sugar Puffs, mate.
"Keep the sun on the left," he said.
Well, that worked an absolute treat,
and now the sun's going down.
Fucking ideal!
I was trying to make
a helpful suggestion.
Yeah, well, maybe keep those helpful
suggestions to yourself from now on.
None of it adds up, if you ask me.
He rocks up in a Poundland tux
and expects us all
to believe he's the bride's brother.
He is.
Really?
Johnners didn't even recognise you.
Well, I'm slightly forgettable.
Take it easy, guys.
No, no, no.
I want to know what you were doing
in that tent with Aitken.
I want to know what you were
doing in those woods with Wendy.
I want to know
why you packed a bomb.
What are you saying?
I think, mate...
..that you've got something to hide.
Think away, mate.
Oof!
I want to know
why you have the kitty.
Aitken had the kitty, Ian,
and now he's dead.
Why do you have the kitty, Ian?
This is most irregular.
GROWLING
Every little helps. Let's go!
GROWLING
WHISTLE BLOWS
WHISTLE BLOWS
WHISTLE BLOWS
GROWLING
LOW GROWLING
GROWLING STOPS
(How long do you think we give it?)
A week.
It's fresh.
Neils, this fucking stinks.
He fucking stinks.
Maybe that's how it knows
where we are.
The Fear Mor.
The same way sharks can sense
blood from miles away,
maybe whatever's doing this...
No, you don't need
superpowers to smell that.
Let's just ditch him.
You ditch Wendy, you ditch me too.
It's not as if it's his head.
Guys...
Guys?
Guys.
That's a freshwater tributary.
Oh, sweet Aled Jones, man,
what are you on about?
Do you know what? It doesn't matter.
I'm just a teacher,
on 21K, who drives a Ford Focus
and listens to Radio 2.
You guys are the best
and the brightest, aren't you?
Things work out for guys like you
so I'm just going to follow this
tributary here, which I think
is freshwater, which hopefully means
it'll lead to a loch.
I'd suggest you follow,
but I've been told to keep
my helpful suggestions to myself.
Best man says let him go.
I'm not comfortable taking orders
from a guy who only
earns 21,000 a month. A year.
Fuck me!
BIRDS CRY
NEILS LAUGHS
ROAR!
The boat, the boat!
Go, go, go, go, go!
ROAR!
Hang on!
Guys!
THEY YELL
Go, go, go!
Come on!
Wait!
Come on, Neils! Wait!
Neils, come on!
Wait!
Where are you going?! Neils!
I'm going to make it! Come on!
I'm going to successfully leap
onto that fucking boat!
Come on!
LASSO WHOOSHES
Argh!
WHISTLE BLOWS
WHISTLE FADES
MEXICAN: He had two kids, as well.
Wendy had three.
As if that makes it any worse.
I'm serious.
Why do people always say that?
Because it's sad
when children lose their parents.
Who's going to tell Wendy's wife?
That is not a text
I would like to write.
Look.
Hello?
Hello?
I'm going to find a phone.
Cos...?
Yup.
Find a phone, mate?
Yup.
Aitken.
The line's down.
I'm going to enjoy this.
What will happen now?
Someone needs to stop Clearway Law.
Public shouldn't leave reviews for lawyers.
You shouldn't be here.
Cheers. I'll be two minutes.
Evening.
Good evening. Um...
I'm with the stag party from London.
Are they here yet?
# I'm still standing
Better than I ever did
# Looking like a true survivor
Feeling like a little kid
# I'm still standing
After all this time...
# I'm still standing
# Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Angus! Johnners!
Holy crap!
Hello...
..mate.
It's Ian.
Your future...brother-in-law.
I'm here for the stag.
'This is bullshit.'
He's taken Christophe's place.
Christophe's not coming?
Didn't reply to the e-mails.
What about Runcie?
Runcie's still in prison.
This is the best
we could come up with.
Listen, Ledge, I know it's
tradition to have a stripper,
and I know it's tradition
to book a dwarf,
but let's not combine the two, eh?
It's freaking me out.
You're Ledge?
Your invite said black tie.
Bring it - not arrive in it.
And what happened to meeting
at the crossroads?
It's raining is what happened.
I sent the man to fetch you.
Hey!
I'm not joking.
Put it in a cab.
Thank you.
Next time we dine, it'll be
on fresh venison. Right, guys?
Everyone, everybody, listen. Chaps,
chaps, chaps, chaps! Stag's talking!
When the stag's talking,
shut the hell up. That's a rule, OK?
Mexico, write it down.
OK. Everybody, this is Ian.
Er, Fran's big brother.
How small is Fran?
Ian, this is Ledge.
Best man. Oldest buddy.
Ludgrove. Harrow. Durham.
Deutsche Bank.
This is Mexican. He works on the
floor below us. Aitken. Prep school.
Neils,
he works for the Copenhagen office.
Yeah! Denmark!
Cosmo, er, known him since halls.
Does...something in the media.
Development producer.
Then, of course, there's Wendy,
who looks after our books.
Oh, what, like some
sort of freelance librarian?
No. He's just our accountant.
Ah, yeah. Sorry. Yeah.
Ooh. Actually,...
Sorry, I ordered a non-meat option.
On a hunting holiday?
Well, to be honest, I won't be
taking part in any of the...
death.
I'm not a blood sportsman.
A blood sports man.
What the hell
are you doing here, then?
Uh...
Er, Ian was just telling me
how he was going to drink you all
under the table.
"Pussies" was the word
I think he used.
Wendy...
You better knock that back.
You're on catch-up.
Perky pinkie, don't forget.
Sorry, what?
You have to have your little finger
up when you drink. Stag rules.
All right.
Hurray!
Ah. I'm not a big drinker,
to be honest. That was...
Plus, the gamekeeper's outside.
Seemed like he wanted to get going.
Then, you'd better drink up.
Hey! 'Hey! Just checking you found
the guys all right?'
I did do. 'Yeah. They take a bit of
working out, don't they?'
Not for me. I've only been
with them five minutes
and I already know
exactly what kind of guys they are.
There you go. For 2K, all-in,
we're guaranteed a weekend's
worth of pure man-shit, my friends.
Sleeping rough, hanging tough,
stalking a prime red deer stag
across the Highlands
and shooting it in the tits.
Come on!
Of course, I know the REAL reason
you're ringing. 'You do?'
You're worried I'm going to lead
Angus astray. 'Ha-ha! Yeah, right.
'Seriously, Ian, I need your help
on this.
'Can you just look after him
for me?'
You want ME to look after HIM?
'We've not been together that long.
'I don't know his mates that well.
'Or what they've got in store
for him.'
Fran... 'I mean,
is he even dressed appropriately?
'Just promise me you'll make sure
he comes back in one piece.'
Fran. He'll be fine. 'Promise me.'
Promise.
'Ian!'
I promise.
OK. Bye. Bye.
They've left without paying.
Oh! I'll go and get them.
No, you won't.
What's to say you won't
just leave with them?
It's not really my bill, anyway.
I've hardly drunk anything.
You've drunk the most.
ã580?
W-what...?
Come on, then.
Play on, Centurion.
I'm just waiting on a connection.
Yeah.
Argh!
Wait!
You forgot me! Hey, guys! Wait!
Guys! You forgot me!
Guys!
Aw. Shall we let him in?
Nah. Fuck him!
Come on, then! Come on, then!
RADIO: 'Cromarty, Forth.
Southwest seven to severe gale nine.
'Bearing west.
Gale eight to storm ten.
'Rain...'
What about some music?
RADIO PLAYS
Message In A Bottle by The Police
Whoo! Yeah!
Right. La questionnaire. 40
questions about Tom Thumb's sister.
What she's like in the sack
and so on.
Oh! Hit me, hit me!
Right. Question numero uno.
When's Fran's birthday?
Oh! Come on! Too easy.
He doesn't know.
I do. But it's boring.
Where are the good questions?
Come on!
OK. Numero...two.
Gillette, Tussauds, or Sherwood?
Oh! Whoo!
I don't understand.
Your sister's front garden.
Is it Gillette, Tussauds
or the Forest of Sherwood?
Her private parts!
Is she shaven, waxed, or unkempt?
Urgh! I'm not gonna answer that!
He's not saying he doesn't know! Oh!
No!
River says no.
Pardon me?
She's flooded and we're too heavy.
This is the only way in.
There'll be no hunting this weekend.
Now, hang on, matey.
What are we paying you for?
If we'd been here earlier,
there wouldn't have been a problem.
We would have been here earlier
if we didn't have to wait
for the Penguin.
Yeah, 003.5. Croupier Gollum.
I was late because you left me
at the meeting point, right?
Just like you let me in the pub
when I was busy paying your bill.
All ã600 of it.
So, let's be clear,
you've never waited for me once.
Oooh!
Guys! Stag's talking, everyone.
There's bound to be a lot of banter
this weekend. OK, it's us,
so it comes with the territory,
but keep it light, OK?
No-one need get injured. Have a
little respect for your fellow man.
Driver!
Is there any way, any way at all,
we can get across
this "wee burn" here?
Right.
When you're all across,
I'll follow in the vehicle.
If you do get washed away
and you survive,
make sure you get out this side.
There's far fewer stags
this side of the water.
Stags are good, though, aren't they?
Not without a gun, they're not.
And when will we be allowed to have
one of those?
Out of interest.
If a stag sees you,
he'll either attack you
if he thinks you're a rival.
Or if he thinks you're a female...
..he will rape you.
Any questions?
Is this definitely the only way?
No.
We can cross at the old dam but
that's a seven-hour hike from there.
Er, how do we get back again?
When the river lets you.
GASPING AND GROANING
So, ITV2 are this close
to commissioning
How To Look Good Homeless,
and I'm marooned in some Third-World
grotto that can't even muster 2G!
It's a travesty.
A bloody travesty.
My bag!
Got to keep moving!
My bag! It's all my stuff!
Come on! Come on!
Yeah, get a McMove on!
You're supposed to take us hunting,
not stand around looking Scottish!
Probably too full of Mars Bars
and batter to move, isn't he?!
Come on! In your own time! Come on!
He's abandoning us!
He's taking a run-up, you moron!
That's a considerable run-up.
Don't suppose anybody's got
any spare clothes?
I need it back for
the dinner on Sunday, OK? Yes.
It's never on the news, is it -
stags on trial for rape and that?
Just scare-mongering,
that's all that was.
Is it rape if they don't understand
the word "no"?
Probably just...a lumberjack
chopping trees.
At 11.30 at night?
Wait! Stop! This is ridiculous!
Where are we even going?
Ledge?
I don't know. But you're best man!
Best men can't do everything.
And don't give me that look.
Not one of you bastards RSVP'd
to the original e-vite and now you
come at me with all this shit.
Where are you taking us, mate?
I'm not taking us anywhere!
I took us to the pub,
met the gamekeeper.
That's what it said to do
and then HE takes it from there.
But now the gamekeeper has gone.
Nothing gets past
Peter Schmeichel(!)
Don't take it out on him.
What was wrong with indoor golf
and a boozy lunch in Battersea?
That's what I want to know.
Come on, Ledge.
What are we going to do?
We could always...
Well, we could always...
pitch camp...in that clearing...
..light a fire, have a few beers
and get our bearings in the morning?
In the a.m.
All right.
After you.
Good.
Nice one, Ian.
'Thermal what?'
Fear Mor.
It's all over the internet.
How have you got data?
I haven't got data.
This is SO unfair.
The Fear Mor.
It's, like, this Scottish giant.
Hides in the mist.
Comes out of nowhere.
I read about this guy, who was
just here on a rambling holiday,
minding his own beeswax...
..and he got ripped apart
like a rag-doll.
I'm telling you...
this thing is evil.
Like Sasquatch?
No, not really.
More like the BFG...
..but without the F.
A Bee Gee?
Neils, you idiot!
What?
What did you just say?
What did Johnners say about respect?
I think, Ian,
you probably owe Neils an apology.
Yeah!
This is a... This is a bit,
isn't it? We're doing a thing.
"Goes with the territory."
This isn't a thing.
Sorry, Neils.
What a bag of dicks.
Maybe you should leave.
I'm sorry, I...
No. It's fine.
I feel exactly the same way.
These are the worst kind of people.
I thought you'd been friends
with them since school?
That's how I know they're
the worst kind of people.
Here. What's that? It's the kitty.
What we owe you from the pub.
There's ã800 there,
plus Ledge's Coutts card.
When the gamekeeper comes back,
get him to take you back to the pub.
From there, you get a cab
and you take that cab
all the way back to London.
Eastbourne. Wherever you want.
In fact, do you know what?
I'll come with you.
We'll go as a duo, the two of us.
A pair. We'll run. No. Yes!
I can't. Let's go! Come on. I can't.
Come on. We can nip out
the back door... Flap.
I can't, all right?
I made a promise...to my sister.
I'm staying.
OK. Well, in that case,
we stick together.
We watch each other's backs,
because that is the only way
you're going to get through this.
You got it?
Have you got it, Ian? Yes.
Yes, I have, thank you.
Right, let's get back out there.
Sorry, can I just... Yep.
Sorry. Sorry, Ian.
OK.
Everybody...grab a tin.
Hold on.
OK...rolling!
Right...first order of business...
..no calls, no cameras, no e-mails.
It's time to lock this down.
That jumped-up Jock thought
he could leave us to perish.
He didn't think we'd survive
a second.
Even me?
But look at us...
We didn't just survive. We thrived!
We've built a camp! We've made fire!
ALL: Yeah!
We're seven Bear Grylls...
..with a monkey butler.
What will happen over the next
72 hours will change us as men.
We will be defined by our time
in these hills,
on these heaths.
And when we get home, we will say -
to people that we trust and without
giving away too many details -
that we saw off our friend in style!
Wait, wait, wait...
That this was the stag
to end all stags!
Yeah!
The stag-hunting stag
of Angus "Johnners" Johnson,
the best friend a man could have!
Hold that, Aitken.
Best man can't do everything.
Now, ladies...
..I'd like you to raise
your drink...
And your pinkies. Thank you, Mexico.
Allow me to make
the first of many toasts...
..to the kill!
ALL: To the kill!
The kill.
WHOOSH, THUMP
Aitken?
Oh, that IS a shame.
Argh!
Jesus Christ!
Aitken!
What did I miss?
What the hell even was that?
It looked like some kind of claw.
Maybe it's all part of it. Part
of the stag package, right, Ledge?
Yeah, like some kind of practical
joke. It wasn't on the website.
Seriously, guys...
He could have survived.
We gave him dead legs
and Chinese burns
all the way through prep school
and it never seemed to bother him.
We should get going.
Quite right. Let's get going.
I'm colder than Walt Disney.
Wait!
Shouldn't we go back?
He's your friend.
Besides, you said so yourself,
the poor guy might not be dead.
OK, you're right.
But it doesn't really
feel like a seven-man job, does it?
Well, come on, then.
So, erm, "Wendy". Is that...
Is that like a nickname
they gave you at school?
I wasn't at school with them.
This has to be
the worst stag weekend ever.
You weren't in Zagreb.
What happened in Zagreb?
I get it. What happens in Zagreb
stays in Zagreb.
Or Prague or Amsterdam
or Dusseldorf.
They're all horrific.
That lot have more money than sense.
So, if these weekends are so bad,
why did you come?
Mate, have you got kids?
I've got three. Triplets.
IVF nightmare.
Like buses.
Really expensive buses.
I only come on these stupid trips
to escape.
The problem is, as soon
as I get away from the kids...
..I miss 'em like hell.
Left or right?
Whoever finds him...
..or whatever's left of him,
shouts to the other one
and we meet back here.
What do we shout?
"Argh."
Want to practise it before we go?
There's no need.
You should practise it.
Argh.
Argh!
No?
ARGH!
Bloody hell.
'Ah, to hell with it.'
I was going to save these
for Sunday,
but we may as well break these
bad boys out of jail now, eh?
Right, question number five...
I don't want to answer any more
questions about my sex life, OK?!
Because it's not what it was
with that ex of yours. Sophie!
Ah! Crazy in the head
and crazy in bed.
How would YOU know?
Shagged her at Glasto,
during Mumford & Sons, didn't he?
It's all water
under the Chelsea Bridge, mate.
Anyway, you're wrong.
It was Ed Sheeran.
Dirty ginger bastard.
Hello?
It's me.
It's Wendy. Are you there?
Wendy!
WENDY!
I'VE FOUND THE LEGS!
He's been separated.
Aitken. Separated.
Oh, God!
Where's Wendy?
I don't know.
Did you find the bag of phones?
I don't know.
Either you did or you didn't. Is he
waiting down there? I don't know!
Forget Wendy.
Look at Aitken.
Oh, this is fucked-up.
You know what's REALLY fucked-up?
This is awful.
This is just so awful.
What in God's name is happening?!
Who the hell is doing this to us?
And why?!
Guys, just grab the bare minimum.
This isn't a jolly.
All we're doing is leaving, OK?
Right, let's do this. Ledge.
Right, um... OK.
Eh... Let me think...
If only Christophe was here,
he'd know what to do.
Well, he's NOT here, is he?
Right. Good. OK.
So, we keep things simple.
We pick a line,
a straight line, and we stick to it.
It never fails. The Romans did it.
Crows do it.
Eh, Forrest Gump did it.
Bang goes my plan of zigzagging
our way out of here.
A line in which direction? Think
about it. Where do most people live?
China?
South. England is south of here.
Exactly. Africa is south of here.
Yes, that's also true. Not quite
as useful, but the point remains,
we head south,
we are BOUND to bump into someone.
Which way is south?
Why ask him?
He can barely see over the bracken.
He's a geography teacher.
What, in real life?
We can, erm,
use the sun, to navigate.
Old sailing trick.
Rises in the west, sets in the east.
Other way round.
Other way round. Exactly.
Who needs Christophe, eh? Right.
Everyone, strap on, follow me,
keeping the sun on your left.
Good work, buddy. Took the words
right out of my mouth.
Do crows fly south? If they find
themselves in Scotland, they do.
Come on.
Don't you think we should just...
maybe, just bury the legs?
And what?
Give the man two graves?
Not on my watch.
In the fullness of time, we will
find his chest, arms and head.
And when we find his chest,
arms and head... Torso. What?
Torso.
Please don't interrupt me, Ian. OK.
When we find
his chest, arms and head...
..we will bury him whole.
It's a question of dignity. OK.
But, maybe, for now, we could...
What? ..you know,
just...pop them in a bag?
'One, two, three...'
It's beautiful up here. Yes.
Yes.
Argh!
Happy? Cool.
Off you go, then.
What? It's your bag, isn't it?
Yes, but I'm not touching it.
I'm not going anywhere near it.
Might be a bomb in it.
Why have you brought a bomb
with you, mate?
No, I'm saying that,
obviously, it's a trap.
We should keep well clear.
Come off it, a trap?
Well, it didn't just
wheel itself here, did it?
Somebody has put it there. Who?
Whoever's doing all of this.
The gamekeeper.
I mean,
that IS who's doing all this, right?
But why, though?
Somebody must have got up his nose.
Sorry, uh, was that for MY benefit?
I'm just thinking,
it could have been you that he was
aiming at when he shot Aitken.
You had been talking down to him
all night. "Talking down"?
As if he worked for you.
He did. And not hard enough.
The man had an appalling work ethic.
I'm sorry to be the one
to give YOU the geography lesson,
but he's on the wrong side
of the river, so it can't be him.
You think the hard-as-nuts
gamekeeper couldn't have made it
across the river in his Land Rover,
when we made it across naked?
Still doesn't explain Wendy, though,
does it?
What about those freaks
back at that boozer?
The foxy waitress. The chef.
The farmers playing snooker.
What about the Fear Mor?
Think about it -
the way they were dragged away,
chopped in half like watermelons.
Enough of the Gruffalo bullshit.
Stop it! This is EXACTLY what
the gamekeeper wants -
to mess with our heads.
Ian, what is in
your cheap-looking bag? Er...
I dunno. Erm... Cripes... OK...
An alarm clock, travel adaptor,
pyjamas, change of socks,
my Kindle, bottle of Shy-raz.
a tube of Pringles...
Whoa, whoa, whoa! Back up.
What was that? Pringles. Spicy BBQ -
not everyone's cup of tea...
No, no, the other one.
A bottle of Shy-raz?
Shy-raz?
And this "Shy-raz", Ian... Yeah.
..is it screw-top or cork?
Screw-top, I think.
Christ, is there no decency?
Au contraire, Ledge.
Unless you're packing a corkscrew,
the wee man's cheapskatery
may a blessing from above!
I've got a mouth like Gandhi's
sandal and, given the fact that
we're meant to have a fresh bevvies
in our hand every half-hour...
To be fair,
that IS in here somewhere.
..then, by my watch,
the time is, er...
Ooh!
O-wine-hundred.
Guys...
if Cosmo wants the Shiraz...
Cosmo gets the Shiraz.
Uh-huh!
(I think it's actually
pronounced Shy-raz.
(It's no big deal.)
Easy...
Whoa!
Whoo! Bravo!
Down the hatch!
Oh, shitfuck!
HE COUGHS
HE GROANS
METALLIC CREAK
METALLIC THUNK
And I never had that drink
with Nick Knowles.
Holy crap, he's dead.
ECHOING: No, he's not. He's fine.
Cosmo, mate, don't go anywhere!
What's your body weight?
Why?
Why?
Why?!
GROANING
You've got a phone!
No.
You've had that all this time!
Please.
The others will kill me.
If they don't get killed first.
Why didn't you call the police?
I haven't had any bloody signal.
Listen, pal...
THEY GROAN
I'm as broke as it comes, OK?
The others, they...
They talked me into sinking
all my cash into some stupid
offshore scheme in Guernsey.
And that's why everything is pinned
on How To Look Good Homeless.
What?
Caroline Flack gives botox
and bling to six lucky tramps
from across the UK.
Now,
if I don't get the call from ITV2...
I lose the lot.
HMRC has my cock on a block.
And you have blood on your hands.
THEY GROAN
This isn't working. Maybe we should
just leave them and save ourselves.
We can hear you, you know!
Oh, come on, Cosmo, don't pretend
you wouldn't do the same.
If you go without me...
I'll tell everyone
your Chatroulette story.
OK, fellas. Put your back into it.
THEY GROAN LOUDER
COSMO GASPS
Is that a splint?
Wait, wait, the wine.
Oh...
We'll have to send someone back.
No need.
THEY CHEER
Stop.
The alcohol should go to Cosmo.
The man is injured and right now,
this supermarket Shiraz
is the closest thing we've got
to an anaesthetic.
Well, it's day one of
medical school, isn't it?
COSMO LAUGHS
Wait... Why do I need an anaes...?
No.
No, no, no, NO!
CRACK!
Argh!
COSMO: It's a very nice drop, this,
actually, Ian.
ã6.99.
It's very drinkable.
MEXICAN: Yeah, clearly.
Hey, this is a serious bloody
injury, I'll have you know.
Yeah, minor miracle
you're still standing.
# You can never know what it's like
# Your blood like winter
freezes just like ice
# And there's a cold, lonely light
that shines from you
# You'll wind up
like that wreck you hide
# Behind that mask you use
♪ And did you think this fool
could never win? ♪
Yeah!
# Well, look at me,
I'm coming back again
# I got a taste of love
in a simple way
# And if you need to know while
I'm still standing
# You just fade away
# Don't you know I'm still standing?
# After all this time
# Picking up the pieces of my life
without you on my mind
# I'm still standing
# Yeah, yeah, yeah!
# I'm still standing
♪ Yeah, yeah, yeah! ♪
Bit of a secret Elton fan, then?
What's that supposed to mean?
It's not supposed to mean anything.
With the help of Bernie Taupin,
Elton John writes good songs.
I agree. That's his job.
I know.
I wasn't saying you're a...
Not that I have anything against...
You don't know me.
You don't know my friends.
They call me The Mexican,
and I'll take that.
Do you understand?
Yeah.
Is anyone else getting that?
You guys getting that?
THEY SNIFF
Genius, mate!
THEY CHEER
Guys...
What did I say?
What did I tell you, hmm?
"Head south and ye shall find."
Well, there's no-one here.
If there isn't a phone here,
at least one,
I'm a chocolate kettle, I really am.
HE SIGHS
These are our...
This isn't someone else's...
Been walking in a huge circle.
Oh, fuck!
It's not your fault, mate.
Well, in fairness,
who else is to blame?
Oh, Sugar Puffs.
Sugar Puffs? I'll give you fucking
Sugar Puffs, mate.
"Keep the sun on the left," he said.
Well, that worked an absolute treat,
and now the sun's going down.
Fucking ideal!
I was trying to make
a helpful suggestion.
Yeah, well, maybe keep those helpful
suggestions to yourself from now on.
None of it adds up, if you ask me.
He rocks up in a Poundland tux
and expects us all
to believe he's the bride's brother.
He is.
Really?
Johnners didn't even recognise you.
Well, I'm slightly forgettable.
Take it easy, guys.
No, no, no.
I want to know what you were doing
in that tent with Aitken.
I want to know what you were
doing in those woods with Wendy.
I want to know
why you packed a bomb.
What are you saying?
I think, mate...
..that you've got something to hide.
Think away, mate.
Oof!
I want to know
why you have the kitty.
Aitken had the kitty, Ian,
and now he's dead.
Why do you have the kitty, Ian?
This is most irregular.
GROWLING
Every little helps. Let's go!
GROWLING
WHISTLE BLOWS
WHISTLE BLOWS
WHISTLE BLOWS
GROWLING
LOW GROWLING
GROWLING STOPS
(How long do you think we give it?)
A week.
It's fresh.
Neils, this fucking stinks.
He fucking stinks.
Maybe that's how it knows
where we are.
The Fear Mor.
The same way sharks can sense
blood from miles away,
maybe whatever's doing this...
No, you don't need
superpowers to smell that.
Let's just ditch him.
You ditch Wendy, you ditch me too.
It's not as if it's his head.
Guys...
Guys?
Guys.
That's a freshwater tributary.
Oh, sweet Aled Jones, man,
what are you on about?
Do you know what? It doesn't matter.
I'm just a teacher,
on 21K, who drives a Ford Focus
and listens to Radio 2.
You guys are the best
and the brightest, aren't you?
Things work out for guys like you
so I'm just going to follow this
tributary here, which I think
is freshwater, which hopefully means
it'll lead to a loch.
I'd suggest you follow,
but I've been told to keep
my helpful suggestions to myself.
Best man says let him go.
I'm not comfortable taking orders
from a guy who only
earns 21,000 a month. A year.
Fuck me!
BIRDS CRY
NEILS LAUGHS
ROAR!
The boat, the boat!
Go, go, go, go, go!
ROAR!
Hang on!
Guys!
THEY YELL
Go, go, go!
Come on!
Wait!
Come on, Neils! Wait!
Neils, come on!
Wait!
Where are you going?! Neils!
I'm going to make it! Come on!
I'm going to successfully leap
onto that fucking boat!
Come on!
LASSO WHOOSHES
Argh!
WHISTLE BLOWS
WHISTLE FADES
MEXICAN: He had two kids, as well.
Wendy had three.
As if that makes it any worse.
I'm serious.
Why do people always say that?
Because it's sad
when children lose their parents.
Who's going to tell Wendy's wife?
That is not a text
I would like to write.
Look.
Hello?
Hello?
I'm going to find a phone.
Cos...?
Yup.
Find a phone, mate?
Yup.
Aitken.
The line's down.
I'm going to enjoy this.
What will happen now?
Someone needs to stop Clearway Law.
Public shouldn't leave reviews for lawyers.