The Inbetweeners Movie

The Inbetweeners Movie is a is a 2011 British coming-of-age teen adventure comedy film based on the E4 sitcom The Inbetweeners. It was written by series creators Damon Beesley and Iain Morris and directed by Ben Palmer

Dialogue

Will: (voiceover) I’m case you were wondering, that was me with my father. And this is where I live - not with him, but with my mother. It’s a long story. Well, not that long. He snagged the work experience girl and then left us. So, just clichéd, really. Plus, it only happened two years ago, which means I don’t even get the luxury of blaming my various personality defects on their divorce. Anyway, that’s how I ended up here - the very definition of suburbia. Safe, comforting, stifling, boring - and I couldn’t wait to fucking leave. Maybe that’s unfair, as they do say that you never know what goes on behind the net curtains of suburbia. Although, in my friend Jay Cartwright’s case, you can have a pretty good guess.

(Neil is working behind the fish counter at a supermarket.)

Neil: All right, Jay’s mum! Where’s Jay?
Jay’s Mum: Oh, hello, Neil. He’s at home, updating his CV. (Her phone rings) Hello? Ohh…
Neil: It’s a bit over, is that OK?
Customer: Not really.

(Neil takes a few prawns away when he sees a clock on the wall behind him click over 6pm. He drops the prawns which scatter everywhere.)

Customer: Excuse me! My prawns?
Neil: Sorry, mate, I finish at six.

(He grabs the girl named Nicole and in full view of the customers they start snogging long and hard.)

Neil: Cheers for that.
Nicole: You don’t have to thank me every time.
Neil: Oh, right. Cool. You’re so fit.

(They start snogging hard again. The waiting customers look on disgusted. Eventually they break for air.)

Will: (voiceover) It was our last ever day of school, something my new stepmum had experienced only four years ago herself. So the head of Sixth was going to say a few inspirational words. And if ever there was a man for the job, it wasn’t lunatic giant Mr Gilbert.
Will: (voiceover) Dads are like arseholes. Everyone’s got one, yes, but also, they’re arseholes. Which is why they make excellent cab drivers.
Will: (voiceover) I was learning a lot about holidays. And not just what they did to Mrs Cooper’s front bottom. I was also learning that on a lads’ holiday, it’s compulsory to wear “hilarious” matching T-shirts.
Check in Woman: Malia flight?
Will: Yep.
Check in Woman: Delay, seven hours. And please remove those T-shirts, or we won’t allow you to board the plane.

(The boys walk down the coach. It’s not that busy, and in the middle are sat a group of nice looking girls.)

Neil: Oi, Jay, Jay… Tidy minge, ten o’clock. Jay? Jay! Didn’t you see them girls? Why don’t you chirps ‘em?
Jay: Yeah, I can’t handle that many at once, Neil.
Neil: Really? What about that netball team?
Jay: Yeah, that was all right, cos that was a luxury caravan. But this coach is way too small for my moves.
Neil: Ah, course.
Will: Right, so, the plan is get to the apartment, unpack, get some sleep then head out fresh tomorrow. First up, the Minoan Palace at Knossos.
Jay: Have you come on a lads’ holiday by mistake?! We haven’t come halfway round the world to look at some boring fucking Greek ruins.
Neil: Yeah, you can see that shit anywhere.
Jay: Look, we get there, drop the bags off, then go straight out and get spasticated. Simples.
Will: But I’ve not slept for 37 hours.
Simon: So shut up and try and get some sleep on here, then.
Will: Fine, good idea.
Will: (voiceover) When people now ask me if I like football, I say yes. I do like football. But not Burnley. Burnley can fuck off.
Burnley Lads: Oh, Burn-a-ley is wonderful!

(The coach is stopped outside a shitty looking, half-finished five-storey concrete box, with no landscaping, just some brush. In the front, there’s a Greek Man smoking, pulling a wet dead dog out of a well. The boys look on, repulsed.)

Will: (voiceover) It was a tense moment. Someone was obviously staying here.
Holiday Rep: Right then, McKenzie party. This is you.

(Burnley Lads cheer uproariously)

Burnley Lad: Good one, fellas! Don’t worry, it’ll look nice when it’s finished.

(Will and the three boys slowly trudge off the coach)

(The boys enter their holiday apartment and wander around. It’s disgusting and has the kind of decor that it’s hard to break and cheap to replace.)

Will: (voiceover) As we entered our new home, wondering if our human rights had been breached, I couldn’t help thinking a shit on the floor might have cheered the place up a bit.

(Will opens the door which is empty apart from half a can of dog food. Will and Simon then walk into the living area, which has a sofabed in it. They pull out the sofa bed, and it has huge light brown stain on a white sheet in the middle of it.)

Jay and Neil: Shotgun this room!
Simon: Shotgun the sofa bed!
Will: Well, where am I gonna sleep, then?!
Simon: Not really my problem.

(In the bathroom)

Neil: What’s that? Is that the bath?
Jay: Course it’s not the bath, you fucking idiot. There’s the bath there! That’s the…kids’ toilet.
Neil: Is it?
Jay: Yes!
Neil: Why’s it got a plughole and a tap, then?
Jay: Cos it’s for checking your kid’s shit before you flush it.
Neil: Ugh, that’s grim!
Jay: Yeah, I know. That’s the Continentals, innit? They’re dirty.

(Simon and Will walk in)

Simon: See? (pointing at the bathtub) That looks nice!
Will: I’m not sleeping in a fucking bathtub for two weeks, Simon! We’ll have to share the sofa bed.
Jay: (High-pitched) Ooh, ‘ello! (Normal voice) Right, well, while you two decide who gets first go on each other’s cocks, I’m getting ready and getting out there. The gash isn’t gonna fuck itself, you know.
Will: Charming(!)
Will: (voiceover) Finally, smelling like an industrial accident at the Lynx factory, and looking like the world’s shittest boy band, we hit the town.
Jay: Feed the pony.
Simon: Yeah, OK, I’ll introduce us, but we’ve all got to go over there.
Will: Great.
Jay: You fucking sad cases. You don’t just walk up to a girl in a club and introduce yourself! That’s creepy. Clubs have different rules, you dick. Look, you dance over near them, make the eyes, then get ‘em to dance with you.
Simon: Really?!
Will: Annoyingly, that does sound right.
Jay: Thank you! And then, after a bit, you stand up to them, pretend to slap ‘em and fuck ‘em up the arse.
Will: That might be a bit much.
Simon: Yeah, I dunno.
Neil: Oh, fucking hell, I’ll do it.
Simon: What about Nicole?
Neil: It’s only dancing, she likes my dancing. Stick with me, you’ll be fine.
Will: Right, then, Si.
Simon: Looks like the holiday starts here.
Will: (voiceover) Unsurprisingly, the girls’ hotel was nicer than our hotel. There are North Korean prison camps which are nicer than our hotel. But, like a North Korean prison camp, it was overcrowded, so we had nowhere to sit.
Neil: What about there?
Will: They’ve got towels on them, Neil.
Neil: So?
Will: That means people have bagsied them. We can’t take those.
Neil: Fuck that!

(Jay goes to move the towels off the beds.)

Will: No, Jay, we can’t!
Jay: Watch me! It’s probably just a load of Kratus that got down early in the morning to reserve ‘em.
Simon: That towel’s got Finding Nemo on it.
Jay: Oh. What, so Nazis can’t like Disney too?

(And with that, Jay grabs the towels and chucks them into the middle of the pool.)

Will: Jay!
Jay: Besides, I really need a lie down. My head’s more fucked than Neil's dad’s arsehole.
Will: Jay, please!
Will: (voiceover) Jay and Neil were off to, as they put it, “check out the chicas”. But I had a serious problem. In the absence of my mother, or a teacher, I needed help with my sunblock.
Will: (voiceover) It was the day of the boat party, and it looked like literally everyone in Malia had a ticket. Well, everyone except me and Simon, whose mood was now bluer than his balls.

Cast

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