The Stag Page #3

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answer a f***ing telephone!

- Because... No, because...

- Why aren't you standing?

Be...

- Listen, The Machine...

- And the kicker, my sister.

That is to say the

f***ing bride-to-be

has to call me her own self to fill

me in on this little circle jerk!

- Wait a second, because...

- Do you have any idea

how many rules of stag protocol you

have ass-mangled in that one move?

That is a heinous dereliction

of best-man duty!

Yo-se, the brother-in-law

ese, comprendez?

- Okay, okay.

- I ought to pluck every pubic hair

on your girly ass from your

balls to your brow right here

in this place with my teeth!

Oh, er, I actually

tried to call you.

- Where's your phone, soldier?

- What?

Give me your goddamn

phone, sh*t bird.

Sorry, just a sec.

There you go.

- When did this take place?

- Just now.

- Why did this take place?

- The phone's a really bad phone

and I've been having a bit

of difficulty with it

and I really got just so frustrated

at it, I erm... I erm...

I f***ed it in a jug of water!

His phone's been on the blink.

I had to call Fionan, because

I couldn't get through to Davin.

He's been quite un-contactable.

Look at your f***ing face, Gay-vin.

You must be spitting feathers.

Let me hose that down,

because... At ease, folks! I am here

now and that is the main thing.

Reporting for duty.

- Come here, Fionan!

- Argh! Argh!

- That really hurts, The Machine!

- Good to see you.

- Yeah, thanks for coming down.

- No problem!

- God!

- Sound off. Who have we got here?

- Who's this little choir boy?

- Er, Simon.

Hi Th-imon!

Why do I know you?

The Machine, this is

my brother Kevin.

Oh, that makes us huggers!

Get in here, bro!

Ha-ha! Good to see you. Get

down there. What the f*** is that?

Er, yes, The Machine.

This is Kevin's...

Dad?

- This is also Kevin.

- You're both called Kevin?

- That's right.

- That's ridiculous.

- What do you call each other?

- Kevin.

Insane. Okay, big

Kevin, little Kevin.

- Look, I'm actually not that big.

- Noted. Enormous Kevin. Tiny Kevin.

Okay, housekeeping done.

Budge up, budge up, budge up.

Chief bridesmaid, hit

me with the itinerary.

Have it downloaded

before I make party.

I mean, I'm good,

but even I couldn't decipher

the code in your voice message.

Religious walking retreat I presume

is the pub crawl from hell.

Am I right? That I got,

but the tranny twist,

I was all like, what the f***

are we talking here? Bangkok?

Saigon? And then I cracked it.

Fellas, are we going to Cardiff?

Look at you parched

little lizards. Bar Wench!

A tray of shot glasses

and a bottle yesterday!

This little single-cell organism

is getting f***ing married!

To my sister.

- What the f*** are we going to do?

- There's nothing we can do.

- What the f*** can we do?

- I'm letting you know now

I'm leaving first thing in the morning.

I'll make my excuses.

- F*** you!

- I didn't sign up for this.

Go f***. Had I known

that he was even a possibility?

- Come on, Simon!

- F*** you! This is your sh*t.

Fionan is getting married. Like it

or not, you were on his stag.

- Show some loyalty for f***'s sake.

- Also you have to drive us home.

Thanks, Bernard. Good man.

- He's coming.

- Well, I'm going to bed.

- Erm, me, too.

- Whoa, whoa, whoa!

- Park it, sisters, mandatory shots.

- Oh.

We were just on our way to

bed before you arrived.

We've a long day of

walking tomorrow.

Walking whence? From pub to pub?

No, walking. Walking

like proper hiking.

- No, incorrect.

- Actually we are, The Machine.

Walking and camping and, er,

praying, mountain praying.

Just a lot of... Got a lot

of stuff. And camping.

- Okay.

- I just wanted to, you know,

get out in the wild.

What the...

You rampant homosexualists.

Wow.

Okay, The Machine, Kevin and

Kevin here are literally gay.

So they have an excuse, but

suddenly you three little geeks

- want to start chewing cock?

- Okay.

I'm sorry about the confusion.

Clearly this isn't your thing.

So, erm, I can offer to

pay for your petrol.

Ten-hut, Private Gay-vin!

You just narrowly survived

your own court-martial

and now you say that

I go AWOL on duty.

You have got the balls

of a baboon, boy.

Yes, it is alarmingly sh*t,

but if that's what fun

bags wants to do,

to get out in the wild,

then, fellas, I'm in.

Hey.

I'm all in.

- Okay, good.

- Yeah.

- Brilliant.

- So you little gerbils,

snuggle down in the sawdust and

I'll see you at the crack.

This is a doozy of a stag town.

Disappear from mine eyes.

- Morning!

- Shhh!

Let's go.

Jesus.

Earthlings!

- Balls.

- Qu pasa?

The Machine, there you are.

And there you all are.

Five little Hobbits heading

out from the shire.

This way.

The Machine, you

don't have any gear!

That is not a

recognised bridle path!

Watch for splinters. Oh.

No signal. Wow. We're out there.

Me neither. Rural.

Me neither, that's my only compass.

Well, at least you

have a phone, Fionan.

At least it isn't dead from some

idiot dropping it in a pint.

And you'd rather I'd have let

what was unfolding unfold.

Let's put our phones in this Ziploc

so that we are free of the urge

- to keep checking all the time.

- Is that wise?

Yeah, let's go offline

for, like, two whole days.

Two whole days?

I'm not sure that's wise.

- Come on. Come on, Simon.

- Come on, Simon.

Anyway, I've got this here

compass to keep us on track.

Plop.

Oh, Jesus. No, no, no.

Oh, Jesus. No, no, no!

That was incredibly rude and

annoying and also we need that.

- We don't need it. Boom.

- We need a compass to find the way.

We need to get lost. You put

that compass in the bag

and Susan here will be like, "Let's

take the compass!" Unacceptable.

The compass dies... phew-uck!

We're reborn.

- But it's dangerous!

- Of courth ith dangerouth, Thimon!

We are going off-piste.

That compass was handmade,

you f***ing oaf!

Well, if that's your beef,

I'll buy you a new one.

No, you imbecile! It had sentimental

value! It was given to me by...

By someone!

Oh, your old geography

teacher, Mr Kennedy.

Your husband... I'm

sorry, your ex-husband.

- Jesus, can you please...

- You do not need that compass.

You need to roam free.

All in.

I don't even have a lisp.

One life, one need

In the night

One love, we get to share it

Leaves you, baby,

if you do not care for it...

- Jesus, this song

- I know.

- Not digging the tunes?

- Nope.

- Why not?

- I can't abide U2.

- Lies.

- Excuse me.

- You actually do like U2.

- Actually I don't.

You don't like their music,

or you don't like Bono?

That would be a firm

negative in both cases.

All right, fingers on buzzers.

Yes or no, "With Or Without you"?

- Without you.

- "New Year's Day"?

- No.

- "Mysterious Ways"?

- Negative.

- "Bad"?

- Very bad.

- "Pride"?

- Shame.

- "Vertigo"?

- Vertig-no.

- "Streets"?

The Machine, if it's by U2,

I'm not going to like it.

- Have you seen them live?

- Once.

- You didn't cry?

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