The Inbetweeners 2 Page #3

The spaceship, there.

That's the sightseeing done.

We need to find this club.

Hang on. Got a signal now.

Googlemappage to the rescue.

It's this way.

No way! That just cost me 20 quid.

Data roaming charges

are pretty extortionate abroad.

- Well, I'll just stand still, then.

- That's not really how it works.

Another 20 quid?

I'm not roaming now, you

useless piece of sh*t!

- Just switch it off, Neil.

- Agh!

- Thanks a lot, Si. It's f***ed now.

- Not sure that was strictly my fault.

We left the harbour to find Jay,

to see if he really was

getting sucked off every morning.

Cannot wait to see DJ Big Penis

rocking da house.

No, nor can I.

Selfie

Ever taken a backpack

or a suitcase to a nightclub?

No, of course you haven't.

Because you're not a f***ing idiot.

Hey!

Let me take a selfie

We had nowhere to stay

and, surprisingly, Big Penis wasn't

the club's premier number one DJ.

Let me take a selfie

I don't get it. He said he worked here.

He also said he knocked out a koala

and f***ed the Minogues.

- Legend.

- He's not here.

Have to spend the night in a hostel.

Aren't hostels a bit pikey?

Hostels are how everyone does it, Simon.

Full of interesting people

who are travelling, like us.

I don't know. We visited Uncle Paul

in a hostel when he had cancer.

Wasn't very cool if I'm being honest.

- It also wasn't a hostel.

- Fine.

- If it's only one night, I suppose.

- Yeah.

- Least there might be some sexy nurses.

- There won't be.

Quick pizzle first?

That's it, sir.

Wash your fingers for the mingers.

No splash, no gash. No Armani, no punani.

No Dolce & Gabbana, no sucky your banana.

- Jay! Jay!

- F***.

- Jay?

- No, pal, the name's Bruce.

What? Shut up, Jay.

Sorry, I've never heard of this bloke Jay.

It's clearly not him. Let's go.

- So you're not Jay?

- It's Bruce, you f***ing drongo.

- But you've got Jay's face.

- Nah.

And your sign says

"Jay's Pussay Juice - dollar a squirt."

- Coincidence.

- What's happened to Jay? Is this a wind-up?

Course it's a bloody wind-up!

100% merked.

The looks on your faces.

You prize bellends.

I can't believe you fell for that.

- We didn't.

- It is you, Jay!

Epic bants!

All right, Neil, calm down.

Good to see you, man.

Just to clear one thing up, though.

You do work in a toilet, don't you?

I can see going to uni

hasn't made you any less of a retard.

Course I don't work in a f***ing toilet.

Why are you working in a toilet, then?

It's a joke!

Don't worry,

it probably went over your heads. Whoosh.

I run this whole club.

- I'm my own boss.

- Boss of a toilet.

Well, drinks are on you, then.

- What, now?

- Yeah, now.

Yeah, great, perfect.

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