All language subtitles for The.Bad.Education.Movie.2015.1080p.BluRay.H264.AAC-RARBG

Who wanted cheese? Joe. Rem Dogg.

- No Nutella?
- No Nutella.

Right, bacon?

I'm gonna cry.
Justin Bieber signed the visitors' book.

Class K, if you don't shut up, you can
wave goodbye to the Heineken factory.

- Was she like Bridget Jones?
- No, she was persecuted by the Nazis.

Here you go, Downton Abbey.

Cleo, check it out. I just put some
magic mushrooms in Mr Wickers' crepe.

Move, man.

- FML, this line is not cute.
- Queue jump?

Rem Dogg, we're not using your wheelchair

to queue barge Hasidic Jews
into an Anne Frank exhibition.

Sorry.

Look more ill.

Now, guys, before we go in, please for
once can you just be respectful.

Jing ...
I've found Anne.

That's a waxwork model.

Sir?

Sir?

Are you okay?

Hush, Po, Anne's trying to speak.

She wants to go home.

Call the Police!
Stop!

We're gonna make it.

Susan, I think I discussed this
in the last meeting.

We are all a little uncomfortable
being called to order by a rape alarm.

Our children are not going
on another school trip with that clown.

Mr Wickers assures me that this field trip
is of great academic value.

They're going to Las Vegas!

- Great for their maths.
- And French.

- They're seeing Celine Dion.
- We are all sick of that buffoon

being protected by his father ...

Or so his mother assured me.

- ...his sexual playmate ...
- Odd choice of words.

- ...and the headmaster.
- His wingman. Home slice.

- Brother from another mother.
- A joke!

Look, he isn't perfect, but ...

...Alfie Wickers is a
truly wonderful teacher.

Class K forever, yeah?

It's so cute.

If you do a cock and balls,
I'll never buy you cigarettes ever again.

Have you got any idea
how much this is gonna hurt?

Pain is temporary, Joe. Being an
absolute badass lasts forever. Ink me.

- Are you sure you're good to carry on?
- Yeah.

I've got it.

Why don't we give Alfie the chance
to defend himself?

We could pay him
a visit right now.

What a terrific idea.

So, we were looking at the First War
of Scottish Independence.

And you know what that means.

It's Class Wars!

So, it is the siege of Stirling Castle!

- 20th of July, 1304.
- Nice, mate.

And what tactic did the English use
to defeat the Scots?

Military blockade.
They cut off their enemy's supply lines.

Correct. So, during break,
I went through your bags blockading you.

- I cut off your water, your food ...
- My Pepperami!

- And your communication.
- Sneaky bitch!

Giving you no option but to lay down
your weapons and surrender.

Where's Gagarin?

Freedom!

Mum!

This is a place of learning, Mr Wickers.

- Not Takeshi's Castle.
- Oh, great reference.

- But, Mum, we are learning.
- Joseph, stop defending him.

He's the biggest child in the school.

Oh, for God's sake,
how do you switch this thing off?

- Um, Susan ...
- Don't 'Susan' me! Thank you.

There's got to be a switch somewhere.
Ah, here we are.

Just like that hamster,
you're up to your neck in it.

So, I'm sorry, Alfredo, the parents just
won't pay for the Vegas trip.

We'll do a fundraiser. Or wait,
doesn't the school have a travel bursary?

Had a travel bursary.

A few years back, I invested
that particular nest egg in art.

Well, great.
Art famously goes up in value.

- They're literally worthless.
- Fine. Then I'll pay.

Seriously, take it out of my salary.
My kids deserve that trip.

You're gonna pay for your class to fly an
11,000 mile roundtrip

to spend a week in Las Vegas?

Who wants to go to Cornwall?

- What the hell is Cornwall?
- It's a county, Chantelle.

- But it's abroad, right?
- No. A county in England.

Rolling hills, smugglers' coves ...

I ain't travelling 6 hours to stand
in a field watching some bait farmer

wank off sheeps into a bucket.

An agricultural practice I'm unaware of.

We have to go on a post-exam trip.
It's a rite of passage.

Did you go on one, sir, after your GCSEs?

Yeah. Shagaluf with the lads.

I'm sworn to secrecy but I'm sure
you can guess what we got up to.

You sat in a villa with the Bullingdon
Club lugeing port off each other's dicks.

Cornwall is gonna be insane.
And get this ...

my best friend from school, Atticus Hoye,
is throwing a house party down there.

I'm talking pop up tiki bar,
fairground rides ...

...a frickin' Nando's van.

Yes!

Atticus? Man, you're posh.

How is that posh?
He's just my old fencing buddy.

- Did you cross swords with him, sir?
- Hell, yeah.

I buried my tip into him more times
than I ... I see what you've done there.

I hope you all have a great time.
Wish I could come.

Don't be silly, you are coming.
It's not Class K without the big man.

Mum will never let me go to Cornwall,
or on a house party.

She's not gonna know, thanks to this.

A fake itinerary I have devised full of
lame school trippy shit.

The Eden Project, some castles,
a nunnery.

It's gonna be fine.

Well, I've printed out parent contact
details, a list of local hospitals ...

...and some articles on the complex
political developments in the region.

It's Cornwall, not Syria.

And if you're worried about your drink
getting spiked, use one of these.

Very clever. I see.
Pop it up the chuffer, do you?

Board up the tradesman's entrance.
Keep out any randy Corns.

- It goes on top of a bottle.
- That makes more sense.

If this trip goes wrong,
I won't be there to protect you.

Rosie, believe it or not, I am a grown man

and I am perfectly capable
of looking after myself.

- Lunchbox.
- You put in Dunkers.

Yep.

Bye.

Konichiwa.

Now do be careful, compadre.
And remember, this is not a stag do.

Oi, willy wanker. One for the road?

Look, sir.

Oh, dear.

Oh, shit.

Right, guys, remember,
what happens on tour, stays on tour.

Don't touch me. Let's go.

- Lads, lads ...
- Eeuw, it smells of wee.

Susan, why do you got luggage?
This isn't the UKIP battle bus.

Joe is only going if I come too.

Right. Is this some kind of sick joke?
Fraser?

Fraser?

No. No way. This is not happening.

She is not coming with us. This is
a school trip, not a bloody Saga tour.

The gloves are off. Glasses, on.

- What the hell are those?
- It's wearable tech.

I will use this device to record
your every move.

If you put one foot out of line ...

...I will terminate this trip
with extreme prejudice!

Bullshit!

Stupid woman. Stupid bloody glasses.

Go Glasses, show me
traffic updates for the A303.

What are those glasses? Looks like
she'll give a TED talk on the menopause.

First stop on Mr Wickers'
fabulous itinerary. The Eden Project.

What?!

Over on my left,
we have the world's largest spade.

Wow!

I can't believe we've driven
6 hours to see a garden centre.

- I think I've been bitten.
- Oi, mate, where's the skunk?

Dick!
No! Get off!

Watch it.

Hey! I wouldn't eat that.
Purging buckthorn, nature's laxative.

You'll have a storm blast
so hard out your bum

they'll be finding bodies up in the
trees for weeks.

Thank you God.

This trip was meant to be
about creating memories.

No-one's gonna look back: "Ooh, do you
remember the time we saw a big spade?".

Please!

- Please, Susan, for the love of God.
- Fine!

- Yes!
- But it will only end in tears.

God, woman. It's just a zipwire.

Come on, sir.

Oh God, this is high.

You'll be okay.
Just remember not to scream.

We had a guy once who choked
on his own tongue. Ready?

Oh God, I've changed my mind.

Get on with it, you tart!

Mitchell!

Sorry!

Help, Susan.
Susan. Help.

Go Glasses, take photo.

Send to group email marked 'the PTA'.
Subject heading: strike one.

My willy's gone inside me.

We have got to ditch the bitch.

Shitty shitty bang bang.

Mrs Poulter,
are those glasses voice activated?

Yes, Mitchell.

- Go Glasses ...
- Not when I'm driving.

...search 'two girls, one cup'.

Oh!

You revolting little boy, sit back down!

Penleven Castle was built by Henry VI.

And in the Cornish rebellion of 1497

the castle withstood a siege
for over 5 months.

- Mate, look, a witch.
- It's a nun, you tit.

Arnie, Dieter, Gunter, Helga,
Helma, Ulla und Rem Hund.

Any questions, my children?

Who build that castle?

Does anyone have any questions?

Well, come on. Anything?!

- Oh, dear.
- Where's the G-spot?
- Would you rather have no arms or no legs?

- What's a haggis?
- Who would win in a fight,
Gandalf or Dwayne Johnson?

Obviously Gandalf. He's magic.

Stop!

If a chicken had sex with a pig,
could it lay a Scotch egg?

- Do you get a boner when you drown?
- Correct.

Susie, have you ever heard of conditioner?

I meant questions about the castle!

There seems to be a priest hole that
smugglers turned into a secret passageway.

Can we see it as it sounds
mildly less shit than this church?

There's no smugglers' passageway.

There is. I read about it on the internet.
It goes down to the beach.

Sir wants to see your back passage.

Shut up, you little toad!

This is Cornwall's most sacred relic

brought back from the Crusades
and believed to possess

miraculous healing powers.

Behold, the prepuce of
Saint John the Baptist.

- What's a prepuce?
- A foreskin.

Eugh!

Eugh, they're praying
to a bit of old willy?

A 2,000 year old holy relic which
sheathed the Baptist's phallus.

Excuse me. Could you please
take me to the nearest WC?

- I'm required to remain in this room.
- Take me to a toilet!

- Well, we might hit up the cafe.
- No, you stay here.

This whole trip can't be dictated
by your bowel movements.

If you just sit here quietly
for 5 minutes, I will ...

- I'll let you have some free time.
- Deal!

Quickly, move out of the way!

Did you hear that, guys?
Free time means pub crawl.

All you've got to do
is behave for 5 minutes.

- Mitchell!
- I just wanted to make a wish.

It's not a fucking genie!

Oh my God.
The foreskin, where is it?

Shit. Help, help.

Oh my God.

What's going on? I heard a crash.

Oh, dear.

- Where?
- Through here.

Come on, boy. Come on, give it!

What are you doing to my dog?

Much better.

- Quickly! Hurry!
- She's coming back!

Everybody freeze!

Where is the prepuce? Hands where
I can see them! Need to search you all.

What's that in your hand, Mr Wickers?
Show me your hands!

Both of them!

Fuck.

Turn round now!

Would you care to explain
what the hell is going on?

Well, come on. Speak!

Hey, I got it.

See? Foreskin, innit.

Well, boy, what were you doing with it?

Little man wanted a miracle.
So he gave it a rub and now he can walk.

When we getting lunch? Or are
you full after that ancient dick you ate?

- Where the hell are we?
- The fishing town of Port Jago.

Drink in that crisp sea air.

- Smells of minge.
- Like you'd know.

- Is he related to Atticus?
- His dad. The local MP. Bit Marmite.

- Do you think they've got a McDonald's?
- No, Joe, I don't.

I think we're in a creepy little town
in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.

That's a genuine sign.

Young lady, Cornwall is not
some mediaeval backwater.

It is a modern, cosmopolitan county

with both feet planted firmly
in the 21st century.

Um, guys ...

What the fuck?

This is the Port Jago Summer
Solstice parade. There's the hobby horse.

Come do the bridal dance
with the horse, young virgin.

- Virgin? You're barking up
the wrong tree there.
- Shut up.

Shall we get going before the pantomime
horse knocks up one of the kids?

Got nowt under Wickers, my lovely.

I do have 8 rooms for the
Dusseldorf Academy der Kunste?

Yeah, that's us. Guten Tag.

Can we go on a helicopter tour?

No need. I've arranged a
very special treat for us tonight.

We are on a VIP guest list

to visit the leader of the Cornish
rebellion, Michael An Gof's grave.

That's a treat?
We're going to a graveyard?

Right, what happened to our free time?

You didn't seriously think I would
let you run amok in this town?

Fine! You know what, you win.

I admit, this trip is a write-off.
But I'm warning you, Susan,

when they leave school,
I'm gonna take them on a holiday

so batshit mental - if it was a movie,
everyone would be played by Nicolas Cage.

When they leave school?

Yes. When they leave school.

They haven't told you.

Guys, what's going on?

We're leaving, sir.
Well, we've left.

But ... where?

- Beauty school. - Brit school.
- Anywhere that ain't school.

Joe?

He is going to
a sixth form college.

One as far away from you
as is humanly possible.

Chop-chop. Bus leaves in 5 minutes.

- Why didn't you tell me?
- We didn't wanna ruin your trip.

It's not my trip. It's our trip.

You're right. And if this is
our last weekend together,

do you wanna spend it sat here
sulking in this vile room?

Don't let her win, sir.

Yeah, you're right.

I took a 2,000 year old bit of dick
so that we could go to the pub

...and go to the pub we shall!

Yes!

How? She's got the exit covered.

Who remembers studying
the siege of Troy?

- Who's Troy?
- I dunno, but he sounds fit.

The rich get richer.
The cuts get deeper.

Hospitals are closing yet
Michael Hoye, our MP,

has enough loose change to buy this pub
tear it down

and build a gastroabomination
for his toff chums.

We been through the courts,
signed the petitions.

Let's face it, Russell Brand
ain't coming to save us.

The Cornish Liberation Army's
dead in the water.

We're the CLA. We don't give up.

- Save it, Pasco. It's hopeless.
- Damn it, man.

Cornwall needs independence.
Listen to reason.

Call that plan of yours reason?
It's a suicide mission.

You'd need the stupidest, most gullible
half-wit on God's green earth to ...

Party time!

- Your shirt's inside out.
- Thanks.

Now, remember, we're just
your average group of local farmers.

- 8 Smirnoff Ices, babe.
- He means lager.

We ain't London poofs.
We don't drink lager.

Then I guess it's Pimm's O'Clock.

You chaps lost?

No.

Oh, I think you are.

Well I'll be damned.

CLA man, are you?

Yes, I am.

Yes, I bloody am.

CLA till I die. We all are.

Well then, a round of ales
for our brothers in arms!

Has anyone seen Keith's moustache?

It's run away.

- Does Port Jago have a gay scene?
- Well, there's gay Colin.

- Your gay scene's one gay man?
- Colin's not actually a queer.

He asked for a spritzer in 1984.

Oh my God, this dicks all over Shagaluf.

Mum's gonna find us here.
Can't we go to Atticus Hoye's house?

It's not a hotel, Joe.
Can't just turn up when we want.

The party's tomorrow.

Mind if I take a pew?

Barkeep, a pint of Betty Stogs
for my lover.

Coming right up.

Whoa, two steps back,
little Miss Marple. So ...

...these missing children are
on a school trip ...

...and they've disappeared
with their teacher. Is that it?

Listen, pen-pusher.
If you do not assist me ...

I will hold you down whilst a negligence
tribunal straps on the rule book,

strips you naked, parts your buttocks

and buggers you into
a dishonourable discharge.

Just ... hold here ...
can you hold your thing for a bit, please?

- So you're an actual smuggler?
- Yes.

Been Trevelyans smuggling since
the glory days of Prussia Cove

and it ain't just cigars.
Booze, dirty playing cards ...

marital aids of all shapes and tastes.

I got a deal with a sex shop in Bodmin.
Filthy bastards in Bodmin.

Sir, scary Cornish dude. Tits and teeth.

Police! Hide!

- This door is just painted on the wall.
- Don't get many girls in here.

Mr Trevelyan.

How's tricks?

Keeping busy, officer.
Devil makes work for idle hands.

I'm looking for 7 children.

This look like a nursery?

I don't believe I've had the pleasure.
It's an out-of-towner, is it?

Oh, this lad's got Cornish blood
running through every vein.

Meet my bastard son.

Conceived in a moment of passion
in a faraway port.

I'm just having a few ales here
with me old pa.

That port being ...

...Kingston, Jamaica.

Me gotta love the durty wine.
But me also love a little bit of fudge.

The pasty and the rice and ting.

Well, they're not in the pub.

If you want something done right ...

Fitty, 2 o'clock.

The bar.

He so checked me out.

Is that Phoebe Kendall?

Oh my God, I sat next to her in class.

- Shotgun.
- No-one is shotgunning her.

- She's not a passenger seat.
- Use it or lose it.

I'm not gonna use it.
I'm going to go over and say hello to it.

Her.

Work it, sailor.

Gotcha!

Phoebe Kendall.

Of all the gin joints in all the world ...

I'll get you another.

- Do I know you?
- Alfie Wickers.

The Wickster.

I had a panic attack at Prize Day.

You're the guy that chundered on
Sir Steve Redgrave.

Collecting the fencing cup.
I like to finish that story on a high.

Yo, what's the deal with this guy?

That would be Mick Gwynn.

Says he'll buy a round for the man
who moves the blade quicker than he.

Ain't got his wallet out for 30 year.

Oh, yeah?

- No, Alfie.
- Go on, sir.

Yeah, go on, Albert.

Please, for once, listen to me.
This is a terrible error of judgement.

Joe, it's an old confidence trick.

The blade's plastic.

This shit about to get cray.

This shit about to get fifty
shades of cray.

Yo, gay Colin, hustler
needs your bandana.

It's blindfolding time.

My hand, my hand!

Don't worry, buddy,
it's just a little flesh wound.

We need alcohol to sterilise it.

Not Guinness!

Susan!

Go upstairs and pack.
We leave at 7 a.m. sharp.

- Hand in your telephones.
- You witch!

Zip it, Dorothy!

What am I gonna do
without my phone?

Don't go on my Snapchat.

There's no reception anyway.

Indeed, Mr Wickers.
For you, a stay of execution.

You know, instead of filming it, you could
have stopped your son getting stabbed.

By me.

But I didn't want to.

After tonight, you will never teach again.

Why are you so desperate
to get me fired?

Come, Mr Wickers, dream a little bigger.

You're not a Bond villain.

No, the real challenge was this,
how to destroy a friendship.

How can you do this to Joe?

Because it is my job to protect him,
whether he likes it or not.

I'm not some emotional retard who's
so desperate to be liked ...

...that he manipulates children into
a pathetic imitation of friendship!

Presumably because he has
no real friends of his own!

I think it might be best if you go home
separately tomorrow, Mr Wickers.

We don't want to prolong
the tearful goodbyes.

Steady, lad. Careful with her now.

Hey, buddy. Do you want some vodka?

Really sorry for stabbing you.

It's fine. I'll have a cool scar.

I think I just freaked out a bit.

You guys leaving and ...

Look, I'm not definitely leaving.

The sixth form college say I need Cs
in English, Maths and History, so ...

Well you might fail History. I taught you.

I guess we've just gotta hope and pray
that you fuck that exam.

Yeah, touch wood.

Sorry my mum ruined the trip. Everyone
was so excited about the house party.

About your mum.

What would you say to her being slipped
some crushed-up sleeping pills

popped in a trunk, given to some smugglers
and dumped in France?

No! Absolutely not.

You do realise she is my actual mother?

Joe, Joe, Joe ...

Do you really think
I would have told you all of this

if the wheels weren't already in motion?

Alfie, are you insane?

She'll be fine. Pasco is gonna be
extra careful with her. He promised me.

What? The guy you just met
promised you?

She's filming everything on her glasses.
She'll destroy you.

Now, let's get our story straight.

I reckon the Suster lands up in France
after an all-night Shagathon

with a really, really desperate fisherman.
Capiche?

Unbelievable.

Ding dong the witch is dead.
What we gonna do now?

Who's up for a strip club?

There you go, my lovelies.

So, this Hoye shindig.
Reckon you can get me past security?

Might be tricky. Already taking a plus 7.

Only your pal Atticus has put in
a little order with me.

Party supplies, if you know what I mean.

Classic Atticus.

Problem is, I'm a watched man
in these parts.

I can't make a delivery
with that heat on me.

Well, I could deliver it.

What, you'd do that for me?

You did me a favour.

I feel so lucky to have a pal like you.

Please welcome Port Jago's finest dancer.

Brace yourself for Peggy Sue.

Right, I can't watch this any more.

- I'm sick of seeing this.
- Put them away.

So, it turns out the
CLA is a Cornish cartel

and Pasco is a drug baron.

- We're leaving.
- He has asked very sweetly

if I/we could pop over a
teeny bit of weed to the party tomorrow.

Come on, Jing. He did me a favour. You
know the saying, 'I scratch your back ...'

You turn 7 children into drug mules?

It's not like we're smoking any of it.
We're just delivering it. Like Ocado.

Guys, time for a little life lesson. Who
is the most popular guy at a house party?

- The guy with the bongos?
- No, Joe.

He's the least popular person.

The guy with the supply.

- Not with the arse.
- Oh my God!

My coccyx!

Joe, Joe, Joe ...

Wickers!

We've got a situation, people.

I have told the PE teacher
a million times. Touch rugby, fine.

Touch swimming, letters.

We've lost contact with the Cornwall trip
and the PTA want answers, fast.

Alfie has enraged the
deadliest enemy of them all.

- Women of a certain age.
- Correct.

Mumsnet have put down their massive
glasses of wine

and picked up their pitchforks.

Then we need to find him before they do.

We've got 24 hours until those children
are legally classified as missing.

Martino, soup up your thermos
and grab your Best of Shakin' Stevens.

It's road trippin' time.

Ah, Woody Bay beach.
I used to catch crabs there every summer.

I wonder if Alice Hubble
still works there?

Look, this isn't a jolly.
Alfie's future is in our hands.

Can you stop playing Christmas music?
It's fucking June.

Wrong time of the month
for Christmas music.

Guys, wake up.

Sorry I had to scarper,
time and tide wait for no man.

Now listen very carefully.

Outside you'll find a van
with a package inside for tonight's party.

When you want me to pick you up,
call this number.

Your mate, Pasco.

I spy with my little eye ...

...something beginning with S.

Rhymes with ...

...brie.

- Sea?
- Correct.

- Do another one.
- I spy ...

...with my little eye
something beginning with ...

...S again.
Rhymes with ... breering wheel.

- Steering wheel?
- Correct.

Please, put the music on!
Put the fucking music back on!

Angleterre? Merci, merci.

Hi. Excuse me, those policemen ...

Looking for a teacher
what put a woman in a box.

Police say he's been mixing
with undesirables.

Look, a helicopter tour.

And who are these undesirables?

- Pasco.
- Will you keep your mouth shut, Tom?!

- Where can I find this Pasco?
- Wherever the wind takes him.

Anything I could put into Google Maps?

Wherever he lays his hat is his home.

Strip club.

Yo Ho Ho's or Teaser's Palace?

Susan, what are you doing?

Raising an army.

It's like a castle.

I thought you said
your mate lived on an estate.

Well, Dick Shittington,
if it isn't Alfie Wickers.

Great to see you, mate.

Guys, meet your host, Mr Atticus Hoye.

Mi casa tu casa.

Sorry, bruv, we don't speak Hogwarts.

- So where are your folks?
- Daddy doesn't really do Cornwall.

Doesn't like getting the Aston dirty.
How about you, bro? Still fencing?

God, I miss going tip-to-tip with you.

Ooh, here comes trouble.
Here's the lads.

Ludo, The Shep, Digby,
Orlando, Tarquin and Dave.

Short for Earl of Daventry.

Toby-Jug is absolutely mullered.

He just took Binky down to the ha-ha
and spooged on her pashmina.

Do these guys come with subtitles?

- Classic pube or dare.
- What's pube or dare?

Either you do a dare or one
of the lads holds you down

and rips out a handful of your pubes.

It's a very famous parlour game.

Live by the pube, die by the pube.

You must have told them about Shagaluf?

Literally the funniest pube or dare ever.

Shall we get a drink?

So basically me and the boys booked
Shagaluf. And then this knobber ...

Wait, sorry, man, I'm totally raping your
vibe. This is your story, you tell it.

- Do I ...
- Tell it, Dickers.

Well, the guys thought
it would be really funny

to tell me that our leavers' trip
was to Sierra Leone.

So my dad booked me a flight there.

Boys went to Spain.

I had a lovely week in Bumbuna.

He got ebola.

- Nearly died.
- Jokes.

- How is that a dare?
- They dared me not to tell my parents.

Could I have a quick word?
Sorry, it's just ...

Just to say, your delivery is out front.

Pasco sends his regards.

Right.

Oh dear.

Pube or dare?

Pube or dare? Pube or dare?
Pube or dare?

Sorry to cock block the hoonage
but Mr Alfred Wickers ...

...is about to make pube or dare history.

- What are you making him do exactly?
- Teabag a swan.

Well, this got weird quickly.

This is the stuff of legend.

Smile!

Sir, stay still!

Mitchell!

Lord. Sheppy, put him out of his misery.

Sheppy incoming!

Right, hey, gang. Everyone back inside.

Monty's gonna play his bongos.

Are your mates always that mean to you?

It's called character-building, Joe.
It's a public school thing.

Hey. That was jokes.

Do you wanna coch with me,
smash a doobie?

Yeah. Wanna smash that doobie so hard
it goes to stay

with its mother until
I agree to get counselling.

- Shall we?
- Yeah.

Babe ...

So, you and Atticus ...

Oh, it's chill. I mean, we sleep together
but we're not exclusive.

Yeah, I mean, I totally dig.

I had a similar situation going on.

Not with Atticus, obviously. Although,
sometimes after fencing practice, we ...

Wait here. I've got you a surprise.

Phoebe?

Phoebe?

These poor, poor women.

We would find Alfie so much quicker
if only we had a bird's-eye view.

What was Alfie doing in here?

- Hello, stranger.
- Hello, total stranger.

Must be confusing me
with someone else.

Martin Wickers, as I live and breathe.

Usual, squire?

Excuse me. Hi. We're looking for a man.

6 foot 1, blue eyes,
thick Jamaican accent?

I think you'd better come with us.

Evening.

See you, mate.

- Did you see his face?
- It's classic Dickers, babe.

Where's sir?

Alfie?

- FML, Chantelle, you're my BFF.
- Stop talking like a text message!

- You stole my man!
- Babe, he is gay!

That's not the point!

Guys, I'm over here.

Got cabbaged.

Brilliant.

Let me guess. Public school thing?

Yeah.

Please tell me you can see
they ain't your mates, bruv.

- What are you on about?
- You're being bullied, sir.

Seriously, pube or dare?

Let me tell you something
about pube or dare.

Yes, every time The Shep yanked out
a fistful of my pubic hair, it hurt.

But at least they wanted
to hang out with me.

It's always about you, isn't it?

Always about me?
You're the selfish ones for abandoning me.

- Some more selfish than others.
- Get over yourself. I am no accessory.

Can we go in? I was about to get
nuts deep in some posh bird.

- Shut up.
- This holiday wasn't about us.

You used us as an excuse to relive a trip
that you didn't even go on.

- Who wants a kebab?
- Stop protecting him!

Don't have a go at Joe
just for being loyal, Jing!

Oh, you helmet. If he's so loyal, how
come he's had a history tutor all year?

What?

Please don't overreact.

You've been seeing another man
behind my back?

- Who is he?
- It didn't mean anything.

What would you say if I was like

"After school, I pay for another boy
to come round and be my special friend?".

I'd totally buy that.

I am sick of all you traitors!

- Alfie, what are you doing?
- I am calling Pasco.

The only person that I can trust.

Get in!

The explosion
at Tory MP Michael Hoye's house

has been linked to an extremist group
fighting for Cornish independence.

Did I just blow up my best friend's house?

Oh, you did more than that, brother.
The fire rises.

- Are you gonna kill us?
- Oh, you're no use to me dead.

Right. Who are you?

Pasco Trevelyan. Head of militant
Cornish Nationalist group the CLA.

The Cornish Liberation Army.

- And you are?
- Interpol. Counter-terrorism.

Now for years, we thought
the CLA lay dormant.

Tonight, all that changed,
thanks to this man.

Intelligence indicates that

Wickers has been radicalised
by a Cornish preacher of hate.

Alfie? He hasn't got
a violent bone in his body.

The Alfie Wickers you knew is dead.

Why, God?!

Right, that was a figure of speech.
As you were.

Thankfully there were no fatalities.

That doesn't change the cold hard fact
that Wickers is a terrorist.

And we need to know everything.
Who he talks to. What he reads.

Does he have any links
with the Middle East?

Oh, he likes falafel.

Likes falafel.

We've hacked into a social media account
connected to the suspect's terror cell.

Terror cell? What, you mean his class?

Well, that doesn't prove anything.

Pasco ... look, take me, not them.

They're just kids. Look, at least
let me just call their parents.

- They could be tracking us.
- I mean, it has an airplane mode.

I hadn't backed up.

Move!

You're right. They might be looking for us
which is why we should act as a decoy.

They may be looking, petal.
But they'll be looking in the wrong place.

I sent them on a merry goose chase.

Who are you people?

The Cornish Liberation Army.

This was the scene earlier
in Cornwall.

Sir, you're on the telly.

Yeah, I know. Wickers
was always a bit of a loner.

You know, kept himself to himself.
Daddy, you never liked him, did you?

Always showing up at the house
pretending we'd invited him.

We repeat. These men are
dangerous and should not be approached.

If you have any information,
please call ...

The revolution has begun.

Best school trip ever.

Time for Phase 2.

Dare I ask what that entails?

I could set us up a petition
on change.org.

We are gonna loose a tide of blood.

- How does a revolution succeed?
- Peaceful negotiation.

The armed seizure
of the means of production.

- Really?
- Yes, young Smee.

Control the money, control the people.
Then they'll have to listen to us.

And what's Cornwall's biggest industry?

- Inbreeding? - Racism?
- Mullets? - Pasties?

Clotted cream?

- Tourism.
- Correct, Lotus Blossom.

We're gonna take back this county's
most important attraction.

Move out, lads!

The Eden Project. The CLA's next target.

We've had it confirmed by a number
of sources from the local community.

- Let me talk to him.
- Too late.

His actions have left me only one option.

Helicopter manhunt!

- Yes!
- No!

We need to neutralise that threat
before anyone else gets hurt.

It's show time!

A real rain is coming and it's gonna wash
this county clean!

Confirming a positive ID matching
the suspect's description.

Move!

- Stand aside, move out the way!
- Move to the side of the path!

Welcome to the jungle.

You can't use force. He has rights.

Oh my God, it's them.

Red Team in position.

They're not going to the Eden Project!

Permission to engage?

It's not them, I tell you!

- What makes you so sure of that?
- Because I ...

...feel it in my waters.

Engage at will!

You can't! Alfie! Alfie!

- Red Team engage.
- No!

You see, it's not him!

Scheiße!

Negative, sir, it's not our suspect.

The castle is now closed.

The castle is now ...
Excuse me, sir.

I said that the castle is now closed.
You can't ...

This is a lock-in!

Let the games begin.

They're at Penleven Castle!

Another tip-off from your waters, is it?

Escort this woman out of here.

- Take her away, boys.
- Right, get them all out!

Unhand me!
Joe's got a chip in his neck.

What?

A few years ago, Joe had his appendix out.

Whilst he was under I had them
pop a chip in his neck.

- He's not a dog, Susan.
- A lot of mothers do it!

Don't they?

All of Cornwall is here. Young, old,
men, women. White ...

You've united the clans.

Pasco was right,
the CLA needed new blood.

You're exciting, brave,
and you don't have buggers' grips.

Look, I'd love to be your Che Guevara.

The only slight problem is,
I'm not actually Cornish.

Che Guevara wasn't actually Cuban.
He was born in Argentina.

Would you give it a rest?

I tricked you into planting the bomb,
but they don't know that.

We got the fortress, soldiers,
weeks of supplies.

We can see this through
to the last drop of blood.

All we need is a charismatic leader.

Yeah, right.
You keep using this word 'leader' ...

Speak to them. Inspire them.

I hear the Jihadiwaddys tell their lot
they'll get a 72 year old virgin.

It's 72 virgins.

See? That's why you're good at this.

Okay, fine. I'll speak to them.

Before I do, maybe you could go on,
get the crowd warmed up a bit?

Then I'll come on and knock it
out the park.

You're the boss.

People of Cornwall.

Right, come on, we're getting out of here.

Sir, where the hell are we going?!

I've got this.
They've barricaded us in,

so I need to send out a distress signal.

Stand back.

The hour of reckoning is upon us!

It's time to rid ourselves of those
Westminster bastards once and for all!

Look, our leader is burning
the symbol of the oppressor.

Alfie.

No, I wasn't.

It was a mistake.

- Alfie, Alfie, Alfie ...
- Stop chanting.

I didn't mean to.

Alfie, Alfie, Alfie ...

Sorry. Sorry.

- Are we gonna die, sir?
- Of course not.

But just in case we do ...

...I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry.

You were right about Atticus and that lot.

They aren't my friends.

You guys are.

And now I'm losing you.

We're all in the same boat, sir.
It's not just you.

We're saying goodbye to each other.

I'm sorry for all those things
I said, babe.

I was embarrassed and
I took it out on you. BFFs?

BFFs. Oh God,
I look so minging when I cry.

What have I done?
I'm literally the worst teacher ever.

You're a great teacher.

Different, but great.

Yes. You taught us things we weren't
never not going to learn nowhere else.

Wow, that was like a
quadruple negative ...

...but thanks.

Every day at school
I was bullied or ignored.

But ... your classroom
was the only place I always felt safe.

You're the first person to make me feel
like I was somebody worth talking to.

I'm a virgin.

No shit.

Hang on. You all knew?

Sir, I'm scared.

Don't worry.

Look, just think of all of this
as one big Class Wars.

That's it! Class Wars!

This is a siege.
And how do we end a siege?

A blockade.

We've cut off your food,
your water and your communication.

The revolution is over.

Hashtag sorry not sorry.

Look, mate, I agree with a lot
of what you're saying.

Yes, the system's cringe,
austerity's bullshit ...

...and of course Cornwall
deserves a voice.

But you're not gonna change any of that
by kidnapping my kids ...

Any minute now, the police
are gonna make their move ...

...and we are gonna fight
for our freedom to the death.

Could you just let go of my neck?

All those people out there
believe in Alfie Wickers.

So you can either play your part ...

...or what does every revolution need?

A martyr.

Damn your tutor.

Once again, young Smee is right.
A revolution needs a martyr.

And I'll nail you to the cross myself
if it means Cornish liberation.

So ...

...what will it be?

What was the first one again?

There are kids in there.
Nobody does anything till I say so.

The world's media is watching.

We wouldn't rule out the use of
unmanned drones. Next question.

- Who are you?
- For the purposes of your articles,

just call me the white Luther.

Somebody shut him up.

Time to tool up.
I brought these over in the boat.

Some serious artillery from our
fellow freedom fighters in ETA.

Oh, bollocks.

I must have sent the wrong crate
to Bodmin.

Oh my God, we're all gonna die.

Shit, man, I think Joe's gone loco.

Guys, look.

Our mums are here to pick us up.

- We've got to get out of here now.
- How?

Seriously, mate,
what the hell are you doing?

Smugglers' tunnel down to the beach.

Does no-one listen to Alfie?

Sir, how did you get past that troll?

Let's just say
I gave him a little present.

You wanked him off?

What? No, I gave him my watch.

Whatever.
Sir wanked off a giant.

I didn't.

Sir, look!
Our mums are here.

Alfie.

The tunnel. I knew it.

Down to the beach. We haven't got long.

He was massive and sir wanked him off.

- What about you?
- If the CLA see you, you're screwed.

- I've gotta create a distraction for you.
- You gonna wank off Pasco as well?

Right, can we just drop the wanking?

Good luck, mate. And if I don't make it
out of here alive, tell Rosie I love her.

Oh, and ... probably delete
my internet history. Thanks.

Fuck, wait.

I've also got some magazines
in the shed. So ... yeah.

Hello?!

Right, can everyone
just listen to me, please?

Shots fired.
We're going in!

Get those people under cover.

I just wanted to say a few words.

This ain't a wedding.

Before this weekend
I didn't know the difference

between Cornwall and Devon.

Bastards.

But since then everything's changed.

I discovered a county that is proud ...

but unhappy

because for too long you guys have
been taken for granted by the man.

I'm here to tell you this.

You don't need him!

And you know what,
when you walk out that door,

he is gonna see just how much
you do for him!

I'm talking fishing.
I'm talking drystone walling.

- I'm talking ...
- Thatched roofs.

Yes, thank you, Mick!

You lot can thatch the hell
out of a cottage!

But today isn't about building things ...

...it is about tearing shit up!

And that is why we need to fight!

- Fight! - Fight!
- Fight! Fight for this love!

Because today's the day we tell
those English bastards

that they can take our lives
but they will never take ...!

Our pasties!

Hurry up! Hurry!

This is Cornwall!

In position.
Charge!

Hold the line!

Son of a bitch.

Come back, you coward!

En garde. Touche.

Ponce.

Fuck.

- Mum.
- Oh my God.

Wait!

Chantelle, I'm here.

Oi, guys, help!

Come here!

- Get off!
- Hey, you! Oi!

In loco parentis, motherfuckers.

Come on, kids.

- Let's go.
- Quality.

Et la!

Et la!

That's a direct.
Technically I win.

Look ... Pasco ...

No.

Sorry.

Please ...

- Alfie! Up here.
- Alfredo!

- Come on, Alfie!
- Come on, Alf.

Closer!

Closer! Bring it down!

- Climb up.
- Come on, Alfie.

- Lower.
- Come on, Alfie!

- Jump!
Come on, Alfie, you can do it, darling!

Not again!

What the fuck?

Sorry!

I think we should find
somewhere to land now.

But we've paid for an hour.

Fine. Killjoy.

- You alright?
- Yeah.

When I thought I was gonna die

you were the only thing
I couldn't bear to leave behind.

I thought I'd lost you.

I love you.

Idiot.

MP Michael Hoye has resigned
today following allegations

that he claimed on expenses
for a cheeky Nando's van.

The Port Jago by-election has been billed
as an unofficial referendum

for the Cornish people.

And finally, today is results day for
students up and down the country.

That's not yours, you dick.

Well done, mate.

Thanks, Alfie. For everything.

Remember ...

Damn straight.

Oh my God.
Never show your mother that.

Okay, sorry.

Okay, gang. Photo time.

Baby, I am so proud of you.
Mummy's so proud.

Well done, well done ...

- Why are you dressed like that?
- I'm hiding in the leavers' photo.

As you do.

Oi, sir.

Little gift to say thank you.

Baked them myself.

Thanks, mate.
That's really sweet of you.

Ah, young love.

Oh, bollocks.

What?

He spiked the brownies.

Alfie?

Alfie.