Original subtitles

Almost seven years ago now,

my Uncle Rory set out from his girlfriend Janice's house in Glasgow,

to ride a motorbike up to my father's house at Lochgair.

He never got there.

Nine days later, my father listed him as missing at the police station at Gallanach.

My Uncle Rory had simply disappeared off the face of the earth.

My Uncle Rory's disappearance wasn't the beginning of the mysteries, it turned out,

and it certainly wasn't the end

Some of the story I was told,

some of it I found out, and some of it...

OK, I admit it, I'm guessing.

I don't know where my part in all of this begins.

It could've been anyone of a dozen moments,

but just for the sake of argument, it was the day my grandmother exploded.

Sorry.

Please be upstanding.

I got held up on the train.

It's all right, son.

Jesus, Pren, what is this - funeral by Oxfam?

It's all I've got, for Christ's sakes!

Hell's teeth!

Sorry, Aunt Tone.

Never mind, Prentice, I doubt the old dear would've minded.

Sorry, Mum.

No, I'm your wife. Your mum's in the coffin.

Oh, yes, of course.

Prentice.

Uncle Hamish.

Dreadful business, Prentice, dreadful.

Check out the woman of your dreams.

Who?

Four o'clock high, three along from Uncle Fergus.

Verity Walker, my distant cousin.

The stunning, fabulous, golden-haired,

pertly-breasted, upwardly nubile niece of my Uncle Fergus.

For me, the girl had the tellech in intellectual,

the id in libidinous

and the fanny in epiphany.

Christ!

That is some funeral kit.

Even black knickers.

How do you...?

Ladles and gentlemen of the family...

... on the one hand,

and whilst it gives me no great pleasure to stand here before you at this time,

I am proud and I think it would be safe to say,

er, without fear of contradiction...

Wer'e in for it now.

She did this on purpose. Wretched woman!

... to have been asked to speak at the funeral of my dear old client,

the late, sorely mourned and greatly loved mother and grandmother...

Margot McHoan...

who was, for over the 50 years that I had the pleasure of knowing her...

a fine upstanding cornerstone of our community.

Grandma?

Oh, Prentice, be a dear and bring the shears up, will you?

Gods sakes, Margot, Dad'll go mad if he sees you!

Oh, stop it, just get up here!

What brings you by, Prentice?

I came to see how you are. Mum sounded worried on the phone.

The doctor just told me to take it easy, that's all

But he didn't specifically forbid the climbing of trees.

Well, I've got things to do.

Squirrels hide in these things,

and dive-bomb my bird table...

and I can't have that

Uh-oh.

Here comes trouble.

For goodness’s sake, Mother, what are you...

So...

... you going to tell me what all this nonsense is about?

It's kind of a matter of principle.

And what principle causes two grown men to barely exchange a word for three months?

Dad's angry at me because I told him I believed in God or something like that

- He won't... - He won't call off this ridiculous feud,

and neither will you.

Boys! Boys!

Hmmph, principle!

I've never heard such bollocks.

My God, you’re your father's son and no mistake.

Come on, I want to see my car.

Oh, take it off, would you mind, Prentice, dear?

The Dorada Grand Turismo.

Oh, how your grandfather loved this motor.

He loved it!

The last time I had sex was in the back seat

- Eh? - After a dance. What a terror he was.

That’s why I kept it.

To connect me.

You understand?

On the one hand, I don’t doubt the worthiness,

and whilst it gives me no great pleasure to stand here before you...

Nice big back seat

I know.

Prentice, try harder, come on!

I'm trying, Marion!

Oh, God!

Uncle Rory.

Hi, Janice.

Prentice, have you got my daughter in there?

No.

Shit!

Get out here.

Do you think Uncle Rory's dead, Gran?

Six years... It's a long time.

He'll be back.

Mm, your father thinks so too. Seems sure of it.

But... No, I think Rory might be dead.

Why?

I have my moles, they tell me things.

- What? - My moles!

They itch when members of my family are talking about me.

This one's you.

And that one is your Uncle Rory.

No itching?

No, not a sausage for years.

What do you want me to do?

Find out where he is,

or at least what happened to him,

and then maybe... Well, I'd feel better.

The police searched for him.

If he'd wanted to get in touch...

I know, I know.

Why me? Why not Dad or Uncle Hamish or Lewis?

Ohh, they’re far too busy and wrapped up!

You’re generally thought to be pretty useless,

so I... I reckon you’d have some time to look around.

- Thanks a bunch, Gran. - My pleasure.

Who knows, it might be you.

What?

Oh, you don’t fool me, Prentice McHoan.

I really must do something about the flashing on that conservatory roof.

- How are you? - I'm feeling sad.

I'm missing the cranky old biddy already.

You looked miles away.

I was just thinking.

Please, Prentice, just for me, don’t keep this silliness up any longer.

It's been very difficult for your father losing another member of the family.

I was gonna stay wi' Uncle Hamish.

Well, just come up to the house.

All right.

He seemed to be annoying.

You should forget about it.

You gonna talk to her or just keep on peeling her clothe's off with your eyes?

What's she doin' here?

Last thing I heard, she was engaged to Rodney Ritchie

from Ritchie's Reliable Removals.

Ah, yes, compulsive illiterator.

Well, it would appear that Roddy's been duly removed

and the delightful Verity is working with Uncle Fergus over the summer.

I tell you, Lew... I just love that woman.

- Go and ask her out - This is a funeral.

For Gods sake, Prent, Margot wouldn’t mind.

I mean, she'd be pleased you made good use of a family occasion.

I just can't.

Every time she looks at me, I can feel my plooks pulsin'.

Just do it, man.

There’s no time like the present, eh?

Hi, Prentice. How's it going?

Oh, fine.

Great Well, as well as can be... you know... Cool.

Yeah.

Let me through.

Let me through, I'm a doctor.

Dr Fyfe, is there a problem?

Yes, there bloody well is. I have to see Margot.

I think Grans a little past the doctoring stage.

Oh, for Christs sake, I know that, you bloody fool. I forgot about her pacemaker.

- What the hell's goin' on, Hamish? - Dunno, Ken.

Mr Parker!

Danny, don’t start the cremation. I forgot her pacemaker.

Does that matter?

Yes, it sodding matters.

If you don’t take it out, the heat builds up until...

Ohh... Shit!

I'm sorry, Dad, I think Grandma just exploded.

Mr McHoan, I'm terribly sorry. We had no idea.

Gentlemen...

You must excuse me, I think... I think I'm having a heart attack.

- We'd better call an ambulance. - It'll take half an hour to get here.

Donny, go and reverse the hearse around.

Come on, man, move!

Is there anything we should do for you, Dr Fyfe?

I think all in all, my grandmother would've enjoyed her funeral.

Things like this have a way of happening in my family.

There was always something weird just round the corner, that none of us could see coming.

Maybe that's not so unusual,

but to me, these matters were troubling,

as was my brother's inexplicably steep career curve.

So, this bigshot agent guy comes up to me after the gig.

He says the bookers are goin' wild for me.

Anyway, next thing I know, he's made a few phone calis,

and he's gone and booked us a warm-up slot on the next Lee & Herring tour.

- It's not bad, eh? - Lee and Herring aren’t funny.

Exactly!

But, it's a good career move, and they do a massive amount of shagging -

all those young girls who can't tell the difference between funny and fellatio.

Which is obviously important to a committed socialist alternative comedian.

Important? It's totally essential, man!

Anyway, what's happenin' in your life?

Well, I've got an essay to hand in on Wittgenstein by Tuesday... and that's it.

Well, you know, sounds interestin'.

Aye.

Are you, em... gonna talk to Dad?

Dunno. Mum's been on at me.

If you just come back tomorrow, eh?

Gran more or less demolished the conservatory,

and somebody’s gotta do something and I need a hand.

Right.

Hello, nice to see you. Thanks for coming.

- Lewis. - Hi.

Prentice, good to see you.

Uncle Fergus.

A bit unfortunate about the drama back at the crematorium.

Still, what can you expect from the NHS?

I always told Margot she should go private.

Anyway, it's nice of you to host the reception, Uncle Fergus.

Well, your Aunt Fiona would’ve wanted to give her mother a good send off,

had she been alive, so it's the least I could do.

In any case, I understand Lochgair would’ve been... inappropriate.

- Well, they haven’t cleaned up the glass yet - Quite.

Do you know, sometimes I think there’s a jinx on this family,

what with Fiona and Rory and now Margot gone.

Anyway, no doubt you boys need a stiff one.

Indeed we do, Uncle Fergus.

Di, Helen, why don’t you look after Lewis and Prentice? It's been a tough day.

Come on, let's get a bloody drink.

Antonia.

- Hey, how's Switzerland? - Great, they’re promoting me.

Oh, fantastic!

- Hamish, good to see you. - You too, Fergus.

Yeah, I'm gettin' loads of gigs, loads of gigs. It's fantastic.

How's the record business treatin' you, Di?

Oh, not bad. I'm earning stacks of money and having inordinate amounts of sex.

Rock and roll!

It's one of life's trials to have a brother who's cleverer, more talented

and better looking thank you.

But sibling rivalry can have a positive aspect.

It can make you resolute,

and, as my grandmother always said, "Act, don't react."

Hiya, Prentice, you OK?

Aye. Aye, fine. How you daein'?

Hey, man, sorry aboot yer Gran.

Aye, ta. I didn't see you down at the crem.

No, we just came up here wi' Mum - you know, pay respects and all that

How do you feel?

Well... I miss her.

Yeah, she was a nice lady.

Anyway, we were just leavin'.

You were gonna tell Prentice aboot Berlin.

Yes, somethin' happened. I wanna talk to you, but not here.

Listen, we're havin' a bit of a party down at the loch tomorrow,

to inaugurate Darren’s sculpture.

You found somewhere to put it?

Due to my fast-talking brother here, we managed to sweet talk your uncle.

Yeah, Fergus donated the site and £500 for transportation.

- Nice one! - It'll be six months tomorrow since...

... you know, since Darren died.

God, is that right?

Aye. Anyway, we thought unveil the piece, have a bit of a rave.

- It's better than a memorial. - Yeah.

- Sounds good. - Anyway, come down and bring some booze.

Aye, cheers. Listen, do you mind if I bring a friend?

Bring who you like. See you, Pren.

- Aye, see you, man. - See you.

- Mrs McSpadden. - Prentice, son, it's good to see you.

It's a terrible day, isn't it?

Aye, I know.

It's makin' me think about your Auntie Fiona.

I can't help gettin' upset, but, anyway, they’re together now, eh?

Aye. Hope so.

Listen, have you seen where Verity went?

She's up in the observatory wi' the other youngsters.

Your brother said they were goin' for a couple of J's.

I suppose that's a kind of drink, is it?

You could say it's a mild intoxican't

I'll just go up.

Right, laddy. It's good to see you.

Aye.

... feeling confident Hot to trot.

They bloody loved me. I could've farted and got a laugh, I tell you. I was flyin'.

So, this bigshot agent guy comes up to me after the gig.

He says the bookers are goin' wild for me.

Pren, have a spliff.

Nah, no thanks.

Look, Prent.

He's got his telescope focused on Uncle Hamish's house.

Hey!

Of course it's upside down.

That’s the bedroom I'm staying in.

Hey! You can wave to me tonight.

- Aye. - Why not, it'll be a giggle.

I'll look for you at eleven?

OK.

Listen, I was wondering...

... there’s this party down by the lochside tomorrow and...

... and we're all invited. Fancy goin', anyone?

Yeah, it'll lift the gloom a bit, eh, girls?

- Sure. - Aye.

Right.

Dear God, we beseech you, have mercy upon my mother -

Mrs McHoan of Lochgair, who has passed into thy tender mercy.

May her anticreate be merciful,

and we beg that you, in infinite wisdom,

refrain from visiting upon her too many of her manifest and numerous shortcomings -

godlessness being the chief amongst them, as well as an over-sharp tongue.

A disappointing life as manager of the Gardener Glass Company

had driven my Uncle Hamish to the outer fringes of the Christian religion,

and into a sect of his own devising with a worldwide membership of one.

Oh, yes, Lord, on a more general note -

we ask you in humbleness to visit the act of wrath of their own foulness

on those... those cheeky wee devils of the Khmer Rouge.

In particular upon their torturers and their leader Mr P. Pott.

May each iota of pain they have inflected rebound upon their central nervous system,

with all the agony that they inflected upon their victims in the first place.

Prentice?

Maybe we could just put a word in for Salman Rushdie.

Yes, and God we pray that you may find time to create suffering

in thy infinite anticreate for one Mr R. Khomeini, late of Tehran,

to experience the despair and the continual worry

currently being undergone by the novelist Mr S. Rushdie of Bombay and London,

heathen and smart Alec though he may well be.

- Amen. - Amen.

Aye, it's invigorating and cleansing to commune with the great invigilator.

Indeed.

Antonia?

Finished with your ridiculous mumbo-jumbo, dear?

God will revisit that remark upon you a thousand times and you take no notice.

That’s correct

See? Even under my own roof.

I thank God that he sent you to me, Prentice.

At least I know I'm not on my own.

Aye, Uncle Hamish.

And what delicious feast have you prepared, my dear?

Cod creole.

Oh, great, cod creole! Cod creole, that is my favourite!

That goes in the credit column, my dear, that goes in the credit column.

Thank you, Hamish.

I thought I might go up to Mum and Dads house tomorrow,

before I go back to Glasgow.

That’s good, son. Make it up with your father. He's suffering enough.

He has brought it upon himself, I'm sorry to say.

A lifetime of atheism and communism,

compounded by the purchase of a German motorcar.

What nonsense.

You go and see him, Prentice, he needs you.

I'll do my best

Jesus Christ, I love Verity Walker.

Well, you better tell her.

- Aye. - He who dares.

Aye!

- Where the fuck are you, Uncle Rory? - No tellin'.

OK, let's start wi' the easy stuff - is there a god?

Not tellin'.

You’re a great help.

Don't know what to do.

Just tell her.

The worst that can happen is that you make a complete tit of yourself.

I love you, Verity Walker.

I love you, Verity Walker.

Watch the glass.

Right, OK.

- Do you want a hand? - No, it's just awkward.

Prent

Hi.

Hello, Prentice.

It's good of you to come up.

It's OK.

She made a bit of a mess, didn't she?

Aye... she did.

What're you gonna do with it?

Get it repaired.

You can't. You can't do that

Why not?

Because it's responsible.

We need to just get rid of it.

Prentice, your gran was climbing on the roof - it was her own fault

She's dead! Don't you have any feelings about that?

You’re just gonna fix it up and move your pot plants back in?!

Nice sunny spot where your mum came through the roof?

Prentice, what I feel for Margot has nothing to do with conservatories,

nor with you, for that matter. What do you want me to do -

drag it down to the loch and burn it in another of your pseudo-religious ceremonies?

You never change, do you, Dad?

Mr bloody Rational!

See you later, Lew.

- Hang on, Pren, come on... - Just leave it.

Christ!

Nice one, Dad.

With his usual skill, my father was rubbing salt in a wound

The pseudo-religious ceremony he was sneering at

was all too fresh and painful in my memory, and in my friends'.

It was the memory of Darren.

The summer before I left for university,

Ashley's brother Darren seemed to me to be the epitome of cool.

He'd dropped out of art school

and come home with a European grant to make his masterpiece.

In a small town, the company of a real life artist,

and eclectic homosexual to boot,

seemed to make the outside world blossom with glamour.

So much so, that for a while I thought I might be gay too.

But I was just caught up in the incandescent light of his talent and enthusiasm.

We all were.

Leave it, Pren. I'll finish it.

- You sure? - Aye.

I want to do these bits myself, you know?

- Hey, Prentice. - What?

Anyone ever tell you you were cute?

No, not recently.

Here.

A flash of colour on a man makes all the difference.

You’ll slay those virginal college lassies.

Thanks.

This is great You sure?

It's something to remember me by.

Aye, OK. Thanks, Darren.

No... Thank you, Pren.

I just had to get it finished, that's all I mean, I know it's gonna work.

Somebody else can worry about where to put it.

Aye... OK.

Maybe catch you later then.

Aye, mebbe.

Afterwards, I tried to work out why I didn't hear what he was saying.

But I was young and he was too subtle for me.

Darren finished off his sculpture that night,

packed his tools away neatly and drove to the old Ballast Hill, round on the point,

where he connected a hose to the exhaust pipe of his mother's car

and fed it through the driver's window.

The engine was still running when they found him the next morning.

A day or two later, I tried stupidly to look for an explanation,

but I went to the wrong man.

Prentice...

... we're all sorry about Darren.

It's not just Darren.

It's Rory, Aunt Fiona.

People, they just die.

One day they’re here and then...

Rory's not dead.

I wouldn’t worry too much about him.

He's been gone for years.

If he's so full of life, then where the hell is he?

Prentice, I don’t know for certain but I think in a roundabout way...

... he keeps in touch.

How?

Just trust me on this, OK?

Yeah, right.

You want to tell me what happened?

I dunno.

We were slitting in the Jacobite.

Deans goin' on about how his mum's old Fiesta killed Darren.

There’s only one thing to do about it.

Very good.

So, now Angie Watt has nothing to go to work in,

and you guys are up on a criminal damage charge.

Thanks for the sympathy, Dad.

I just don’t understand the point of it.

It made us feel better, OK?

So I can see.

Why do these things happen?

I don’t know.

You don’t know.

Well, that's just not good enough.

There must be something more than that

Some reason.

Why, are we talking the great creator's master plan here?

Maybe.

I just can't believe he dies and there’s nothing else.

Just snuffed out

Prent, this is a daft wee town, in a daft wee country,

on a daft wee planet, in a daft wee galaxy.

You can't accept that we're microscopically unimportant -

here for the blink of an eye and no guaranties.

These hills there will still be there long after we're ploughed into the ground

with all our pathetic little worries.

People can't accept that they're not the centre of things, so they came up with God,

and life after death and life before death, and original sin.

I mean what sick idiot came up with that one?

Maybe Darren got what Mr God thought he deserved. Have you ever thought about that?

Christ... You can be insufferable!

Prentice, you've every right to be upset,

but don't try and make sense of it with all this metaphysical angst

It's also known as superstitious shit,

and you weren't brought up to speak that language.

Can we go back in now?

- No, we're fishing. - I'd like to go back in, OK?

- Prentice... - Just leave me alone, will you?

When I was younger, the world was very small,

and there was still magic in it.

But then, everyday was a week,

each month, a year.

A season was a decade,

and every year, a lifetime.

Once upon a time, when the world was no exactly young...

My father told us stories of the forest ringed by sand, the magic duvet,

the well-travelled country and the slow children,

and I believed it all, because he was my dad.

... into stone people.

These stone people live down there in the mantle of the earth

and they're called Magmites - half human, half stone.

How do they breathe down there, Dad?

Ah, that's just the point, Prentice.

Y'see, they have to drill up to the surface of the earth for air.

Now, everybody in Lochgair thinks this is Flagstaff Hill, right?

Yes!

Well, everybody is wrong, because in actual fact this is a Magmite bore hole...

... and these... are stone sentries.

Magmite soldiers guarding their air hole.

And every night...

... they come to life!

And if they catch you up here,

they will take you prisoner and they will drag you down,

right down into the centre of the earth until eventually you will become a stone person too,

gliding like molten lava through the tunnels.

What's up, Helen?

I don't want to be taken prisoner.

Oh, shut it, Helen, it's just a story. You know, Mr McHoan.

Well, what do you think, Ashley?

I think it's bollocks.

Uncle Kenneth, Ashley's swearing!

Go away and bugger yourself, Helen Urvlll

Knickers.

Tits. Wank.

Uncle Kenneth!

Well, I'm afraid, I'm afraid Ashley is absolutely right, Helen, it is all bollocks.

Yeah, I just made it up.

Almost all the best stories are bollocks,

even the ones people say are true, but it doesn't mean that we can't enjoy them.

Tell you what, let's go... have our picnic.

Hey, Mr McHoan, I'm a stone sentry.

- Geronimo! - Oh, Ashley Watt, you know one day,

you're gonna give some young man a real run-around.

Come on, hurry up, I'm starving.

Hey, Darren, it's just one of my dads daft stories.

Total crap.

I know that, Lew... but I can see them.

Prentice!

Prent -

come on!

Hey, give us back my banana!

But, Dad, Mrs McBeath says there is so a god and you'll go to a bad place.

Mrs McBeath is an idiot, Prentice.

No, she's not, Dad, she's a teacher!

Well, people can be teachers and idiots, Prentice.

They could be prime ministers and idiots.

In fact, in certain cases, it could actually be a distinct advantage.

For goodness's sake, Ken,

are you gonna fill their heads with this nonsense for the rest of their lives?

Why not, Fiona? It's a father's privilege to fill his son's head wi' nonsense.

Uncle Kenneth, my dad says you're a commie.

I said no such thing!

Aye, ye did, you said he was a commie tryin' tae bring the country tae it's knees.

Well, your father is absolutely right, Helen.

Only in the metaphorical sense, not in the practical one, unfortunately.

Smart bastard.

Oi, cut it out!

So there's no god?

Nope.

- What aboot Wombles? - Eh?

Of Wimbledon Common.

They must be real, I seen them on television.

Well, you can't argue wi' that, can you?

Hey!

It's Uncle Rory.

Yeah!

The return of the prodigal.

Ho-ho!

Hiya, Prent

- Hi, Rory. - Did you bring us a present?

- Hiya. - Wait and see.

- I want it now! - Hold your horses! Look at you two. Hiya.

Hiya, Ken. How you doin'?

Christ, you've got thin.

Aye, well, a wee touch of the squitters in Calcutta, you know?

Oh, this is Janice. We met over there on a bus in trying circumstances.

- Nice to meet you. - Hi.

And this is Marion, Janice's wee girl.

- A cheeky wee besom, is that right, Marion? - Hi.

- Come on. - Right.

Is everybody up here?

Ken, listen, I've gotta tell somebody.

You know my book, The Travel Notes?

Uh-huh.

I've got a publisher.

Rory, that's fantastic!

I cannae believe it myself.

Hiya.

I've never forgotten the expression on my father's face

when he realised that Rory had beaten him into print.

I think at that moment, I became aware that I could see myself in a world

where disappointment always lurks, waiting to pounce.

Good to see you.

You all right, Rory?

Did you bump into the Maharishi at all?

- Hi. - How are you?

But it was a happy day.

One of many.

When you're that age,

you don't imagine how soon the stone sentries will start dragging their prisoners

back down to the centre of the earth.

She's great I mean really, really, really great

I love her.

Take me, Verity, put me oot ma misery.

Oh, God, I love her, I love her!

- I think he loves her. - Aye.

I mean, look at her, she's dancin' wi' Andy Donald for Christ's sake!

That's her only flaw - she's got a lousy taste in men.

You shouldn't have a problem then, eh, Prentice?

That's it, take the piss.

No, no, Prentice is right, she is bloody gorgeous.

In fact, I think I love her too.

- Aye, me an' all - Me tae.

Verity, I love ye.

I canna get enough o' ye.

Verity, we love you, Verity!

Come on, I wanna talk to you.

What's it to be?

More unalloyed sexual frustration or a wee tot of 12-year-old?

At last, a woman with her priorities right.

You know this place?

This is where Darren... you know, where he passed over.

Yeah, but do you know what it is?

Not really.

When the sailin' ships came in here unladen,

they'd bring rocks in the hold, just to keep them steady.

They'd load up...

and dump the ballast here.

Rocks from all over the world.

Me and my brothers used to come down here, you know,

when my dad was beatin' the livin' shit out of my mum.

Stop me if you've heard this before.

We knew it wasn't all sweetness and light in the Watt family.

Fuckin' right it wasn't.

Darren used to say... that all these rocks connected us to the world.

We'd come down here just to remind ourselves

that there was more to life than a house that smelled of chip fat,

and endless arguments about fag money.

It made you feel better to sit and think you were sittin' on rocks

that had once been a part of China or Brazil or Australia.

Darren got out

He was a success. Why did he do it?

I don't know.

Maybe when Darren saw the world for real, it was... all too much...

or just disappointin'.

They're gonna level this whole place.

Sweep it all away and build a marina.

Just like that

I wished I could help her,

but sometimes the answers just won't come to you.

I found myself thinking about Uncle Rory,

wondering if he'd found the world too much or too disappointing,

or whether a ship might yet carry him back home to us.

I was gonna tell you about Berlin.

OK.

I was in Berlin last month, programming some software for a drugs company.

They put us up in a fancy hotel with a fantastic leisure pool -

you know, saunas and all that stuff.

- It's all right for some. - A perk of gainful employment

Anyway, I was in the jacuzzi,

and this English guy was tryin' hard to chat me up and make fun of my accent

It kinda came out I was from Lochgair and he starts saying he knew the place well,

and he was coming over all mysterious

and saying that there was someone here who was having the wool pulled over their eyes -

had been for a long time, and that their name was...

McHoan.

Aye.

Who was this guy?

He wouldn't say.

Kinda clammed up after that, as if he'd gone too far.

You might've used your feminine wiles.

Well, at the time, they were more or less fully employed on a systems analyst from Texas,

with shoulders as wide as the prairie sky

and a gold company Amex card, to be perfectly honest

Saucy bitch!

Is that what it takes to get a lumber these days?

Jesus!

That's your new year's kiss three months early.

Now don't go askin' for another one.

Wow!

In my mind, I'm trying to stop myself from coming

by putting this MFI kitchen unit thegither,

but it's not working cos I'm thinkin' of pre-drilled screws,

male and female parts, and it's great

She's pantin' and screamin', I'm still puttin' that kitchen unit together in my head,

and then, then, from between the naked sexual bodies,

there is the noise of a rhinoceros farting.

Oh, Christ, your brother's hilarious, man.

Yeah, isn't he just?

Ah! Wrong! You think you'll have a slash but...

- Another? - Fuck off.

Ladles and gentlemen, my name is...

... McHoan, Lewis McHoan.

Excuse me, are you Prentice, Prentice McHoan?

- Janice! - It is you. Hiya!

Sit down.

- How are you? - Fine, fine.

So, what you doing now?

- I'm at uni. - Great

And your parents, are they well?

Aye, aye, they're fine.

Did you hear that Margot died?

Oh, I'm sorry.

She was some woman.

I would've come to the funeral if I'd known.

Aye, it was a great turnout, everyone was there.

Everyone?

Rory was here?

- No, no, he wisnae. - No.

Well, he wouldn't be.

So, what do you think of your brother?

Yeah, he's almost as funny as Lee and Herring.

Hey, Pren, you said you'd take us backstage to meet him.

I tell you, he's one funny guy.

- Oh! - Shit! Sorry, darlin'.

- This is Gavin, my flatmate. - Oh.

Janice!

Janice, Janice, come and have a curry.

Oh, thanks, Lewis, but I've got work in the morning. Cheers anyway.

Well, it was nice to see you anyway, and listen, go and see my mum and dad, OK?

I'll do my best Oh, my bag.

Hey, Pren, Pren, sure we can't treat you to a wee tandoori?

Aye.

Come on, ye big poof. Look, it's no even one yet

Oh, on ye go.

Yeah, come on, Gavin, there's always room for an admiring fan.

Aye, aye, consorting wi' the stars, eh?

Hey, bro, you take care of yourself, OK?

- Aye. See you. - See you.

So, um...

Which way are you going?

I always felt that your dad knew more than he was lettin' on.

Yeah?

Somehow, I had the feelin' that Rory was in touch with him.

- How? - I don't know.

Last time I saw Rory he was gonna tell Kenneth somethin',

ask his advice about somethin' important, some kind of secret.

- What was it? - I don't know.

Rory was mysterious about your family.

I've got some of his stuff in the flat still

What kind of stuff?

Papers and things. Computer disks.

- Have you? - Mm.

I'd like to see them sometime.

Well, come and get them now. It's just round here.

You'll be wanting to get to your bed.

Come on, it'll only take a minute.

OK.

Come in.

Get yourself a dram.

D'you want one?

Yeah, why not?

I'll just look out the stuff.

What's Marion up to these days?

Och, she's fine, she's a detective constable in Milngavie now.

Really?

Sit down.

There's all kinds of stuff here. It's a right jumble.

I couldn't make head nor tail of most of it.

- CR? - Stands for Crow Road.

Like "Away the Crow Road"?

What?

It's a saying. My gran would use it if someone died.

She'd say "He's away the Crow Road." You know, dead.

Have you never heard that?

No, I never knew that I always thought...

I thought it meant something else.

Anyway, take it and have a look. I want it back, mind.

Aye. Sure.

Well... I'd better be getting back.

You can stay here if you want

Maybe.

I could sleep on the sofa.

D'you know, you sound just like him.

- Yeah? - Yeah, just then.

I don't want you to think that I'm trying to seduce you or anything.

D'you think Rory's...

D'you think he's away the Crow Road?

Dunno.

Gonna try and find out

That'd be good.

He said there was a secret.

Good night, Janice.

Night night, Rory.

Hey, were you shagging my girlfriend in there?

- Sorry about that - I should bloody well think so.

Is the answer in this file?

I'm no tellin.

Well, shut your face then.

It's a liberty!

Look, I was just tryin' to get closer to you through her.

Oh, yeah?

You are one cheeky wee bastard!