The Riot Club Page #3

Number number".

It's just wrong!

- Think you're f***ing clever?

- Jesus, please...

Shut it, you posh twat.

You pompous little prick.

You OK, mate?

- Yeah, I'm fine.

- F***, what happened to your face?

Got mugged.

- Hard luck, mate.

- Look, I'm fine.

- I'm fine. It doesn't matter.

- No, mate.

Come on.

What absolute wankers.

Get a job, yeah?

Shouldn't give you this,

you've probably got a concussion.

Do you know your name and everything?

Alistair Ryle.

- Not related to Sebastian Ryle?

- Yeah, my brother.

F***, you're Sebbers' brother? Oh, my wow!

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

- I was at Harrow.

Ah, well, can't have everything.

Good to meet you.

Whoo!

I say! You ladies need a lift?

- Guys, this is Sebbers' little brother.

- No jokes!

- Hi.

- Hi. Bellingfield.

I'm Toby.

Your brother was, like,

the best Riot Club president ever.

Oh, my God, Sebbers was a legend.

How's he doing at Deutsche Bank?

Uh, uh, they let him go, actually.

- What?

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

F***, what's he doing now?

Uh, says he's going to buy an Airstream,

big old silver caravan thing,

start a business doing street food

at festivals and sh*t.

You know, "Really good burgers"?

Mate, get in.

What the f*** happened to your face?

- Hi.

- Hey.

Did you ask for an upgrade?

I'm skint.

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

I've got so much to do.

Can I help?

We really shouldn't be doing this.

Mate, what the f***

was going on in that place tonight?

You can't dance for sh*t.

Good morning, Oxford!

- Someone put Tubes to bed, yeah?

- How about a sleep?

Nice bit of Bedfordshire.

The Duke of Bedfordshire!

- I'm the king of the car!

- Whoa!

You're magnificent, now sit down.

Jesus f***!

Not on my coat!

Oh, bail out!

Oh, that f***ing, oh, my God...

Ugh!

That is hanging.

- Sorry.

- Is it on my hair?

- Bit of a chunderstorm...

- Oh!

Come on, mate...

F*** it. Ashtray was full anyway.

Thanks, Bell-end.

Mate, the homeless can't drive.

Pudding.

No, dessert.

Toilet.

Toilet?

Loo.

This office is mental.

There are some rooms here, you think,

"This is too Oxford even for Oxford",

you know what I mean?

Oh, napkin.

You say "napkin"?

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

Dick.

Yeah. "Dick".

Big night last night?

The usual.

Yeah, I didn't sleep much either.

Good morning.

Please, take a seat.

I won't be interested in excuses

about not having done it

because you're in the college play.

If you don't bring an essay

worthy of discussion each week,

you let your partner down

as well as yourself.

Your job is to provoke him,

challenge him to be more rigorous,

examine every thought.

Any questions?

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