♪ My heart is broken ♪
♪ Like an egg on the floor ♪
♪ If I wasn't such a grown-up ♪
♪ Then I'd call you a whore ♪
♪ You are my personal salmonella ♪
♪ Going off on holiday ♪
♪ And having sex with Trevor ♪♪
[singing high-pitched and out-of-tune]
[laughing]
I was 16, all right? I was in a bad place.
Why don't you just take it down?
I would, but I forgot my password,
and my security question.
I mean, Jesus, what is my favorite place?
Well, judging by that, another dude's ass.
-[laughing] -Shut up, Mitchell.
Sir, can we watch my video, now?
[Alfie] All right, what's it called?
"One Girl, Ten Cups."
Oh, God, Chantelle.
What, it's just me doing the washing up.
-Oh. -Greetings and salutations.
David Millbank.
I was just wondering if I can count on your vote
for this forthcoming school election.
Um, go away, we're working.
Now, who did you vote for last year?
Little Mix.
Ah, the X-Factor, yes.
Look, I love music.
I'm a big fan of the Coldplay,
Jay-zed, and Olly Murs Feet Rizzle Sticks.
Hey, sir, do you want to see an old guy sing with his nut sack?
Mitchell, why would I want to see an old man
-singing with his... oh, my God. -[♪ "Sledgehammer" by Peter Gabriel]
Is that... Oh, I've got to send this to Fraser.
He loves Peter Gabriel.
[incoming email sound]
[♪ "Sledgehammer" by Peter Gabriel]
Goodness, Peter Gabriel has aged.
Oh, Jesus.
[singing and music through speakers]
[laughing]
Nothing to see, here.
Guys, can you just get on.
Put the phone away.
Question ten's really good. Get on with that.
[♪ "Sledgehammer" by Peter Gabriel]
♪ This amusement never ends ♪
♪ I wanna be your sledgehammer ♪
♪ Why don't you call my name ♪
♪ I want to be your sledgehammer ♪
♪ This will be my testimony yeah ♪♪
This is the dawn of a new age.
Now, by now, you'll all be aware
that a video of our headmaster showing children
images of a geriatric man manipulating his scrotum to song has gone viral.
He's been asked to remain off the school grounds, pending a review
by the Educational Authority Disciplinary Board.
-In the interim, I shall rule. -Bullshit.
Surely, the most senior member of staff should be head mistress.
Mollinson has been here since like the swinging '60s.
The swinging '70s and '80s.
The '90s were a bit dry, thanks to my hip replacement.
Now, given the disastrous example
set by our ex-headmaster,
we have to get our house in order.
-What do you mean, house in order? -Mm.
Well, for starters, I'm not having you turning this place into a hippie commune;
that ludicrous garden of yours.
The one I built is a memorial
to my late brother, Freddie.
I need a new parking space.
Could it fit a Hummer?
And take this school election, always in absolute shambles.
Oh, is it?
I don't believe in elections.
[scoffs] Of course you don't.
But we are gonna show the board
that we can get something right, which means, Wickers,
-you can sit this one out. -[blows raspberry]
Bothered.
This election will run like clockwork,
and that way I will show the board
that I am the right man for the job, on a permanent basis.
No one wants you in charge.
You're like the step mom in Parent Trap.
With me in power, this school will improve, expand.
The pupils will be better, stronger... purer.
Almost like a super race.
-Yes. -Amazing.
And I have to deal with that troublesome Fletchly boy.
Parents are demanding compensation for some little javelin accident,
-so I'm expelling him. -On what grounds?
For having marijuana in his locker.
-And how'd you know that? -I put it there.
-I need a smoke. -Yeah, me too.
-You don't smoke. -Yeah, sure I do.
You know, like, when I'm stressed.
[jazzy upbeat music]
Fraser is screwed.
[coughing]
That's some good shit.
Do you want to do blow-back?
It's a cigarette, Alfie. It's not pot.
Yeah, sorry.
Can you imagine Pickwell as a mistress?
I am not letting her near Freddie's tree.
You heard the way she was talking.
She'd probably have Jewish kids in separate classes.
Five year's time from now, it'll be us up in front of a disciplinary board,
telling them we were only following orders.
[chuckles] She could sack us.
Then, what would you do as a living?
Go back to B&Q. Kept the uniform.
And staff get 13 percent off decking, so win-win.
You're gonna have to make an effort with her.
Have you thought about entering this election?
She told me not to. And anyway, you have to admit,
this whole school election thing is bullshit.
You're only saying that 'cause of the last time
your kids got involved in politics.
Not this again. Rem Dogg got stage fright.
Well, hello, young chap,
and, uh, what's your ambition in life, eh?
-Anal. -What?
[pictures snapping]
Um...
Come on. Everyone knows that school politics
is just for losers like Millbank.
You know, he came to my class this morning, asking for our votes.
-And? -I told him to piss off.
You do know he's my candidate.
[coughs] Great guy.
I bet you think it's cool to say you're not into politics.
Now, you're sounding really old.
I mean, have you ever voted?
No, no. I don't need to,
because my dad does my postal vote for me.
[chuckling] Oh, God.
Winning this election will be a piece of piss, all right?
-I just can't be bothered. -Yeah, you can't be bothered
because you're afraid of losing.
Losing?
My class would rape Millbank.
Your class? Special K? Please.
Don't bring the children into this.
Pathetic, right.
I'm going back to help my loser win this election.
Well, I am going to the canteen,
because I have got the munchies.
[dub step beat]
Right, class. We've got an election to win.
Who wants to stand?
Look, I've seen the other candidates,
and we can't win if we're running against them
on their terms, so, our inspiration for this election
is going to be a certain Pol Pot.
Ain't that the guy that killed anyone wearing glasses?
Paul Potts, sorry. I always get them mixed up.
You know, the one that won Britain's Got Talent? Yeah.
We're gonna win it on a sympathy vote,
and we have got the perfect candidate.
Everybody loves a chubby virgin.
No, why's it always me?
Joe, this is your perfect opportunity
to make this class proud of you.
Yeah, but, I can't do public speaking.
It's easy. It's just like teaching a class.
What if I freeze up?
Well, they say that you should imagine
that everyone's naked.
Are you saying that when you teach us, you imagine us naked?
-No. -I'll never win, anyway.
Of course you can win.
All you need is a crack campaign team,
and you have got the best in the business.
Jing. She is a mastermind.
She'll be on strategy.
Stephen does plays. He can write you speeches.
Mitchell... has got a laptop.
He'll run the website.
Hack the website.
I've given out more viruses than her.
Shut up!
I'll do it on one condition.
-Anything. -That for just one day,
you don't make any stupid comments about China.
Promise.
Just to clarify, um, you do know what voting is?
It's just, you know, democracy isn't really a big...
Never mind, so... What do you reckon?
You in?
OK...
Yes, right! Team, to the corridor!
-Talk to me, people. -We've got a problem.
Everyone entering needs a party, and they're all taken.
-Except one. -It's not the BMP, is it?
-Worse, Lib-Dem. -Bollocks, right.
Stephen, get hold of a yellow tie,
draw up a list of promises to break.
Right. What are we gonna do about Grayson?
Well, he's a Torries candidate, so he's all about cuts.
We need to prove his financial plan
is completely unrealistic.
Mitchell, you're gonna hack the school accounts.
Jing, you'll analyze the data.
It's gonna take time, though, sir.
The mainframe's gonna be flagged,
ever since I put the school on Gumtree.
[Joe] What are we gonna do about Millbank?
-Doesn't he have a brother? -Evan Millbank, 14.
He's got the school's lowest SATS scores.
He's asthmatic, dyslexic,
wheat, lactose and sunlight intolerant.
He's spaced like Rain Man, and he can barely count,
and isn't allow near matches.
Perfect. We need him to run against his brother.
A sibling rivalry is bound to cause havoc with David's campaign.
Genius. How do we get him to run?
He can't run. He's got gammy legs.
I meant in the election.
Chantelle, you are gonna take his breath away.
-Steal his inhaler. -No, flirt with him.
Convince him to challenge his brother.
You owe me big time for this.
Oh, I'll make it up to you.
Not like that.
[smooth beat]
Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Come on, come on.
So, I want to propose... the deal.
Fraser, why do we have to do this in an Italian restaurant?
You help me get back into power,
and in two terms time, I stand aside,
and let you take the top job.
No. Why... Why would I even want that?
I'm just trying to get you on board.
I'm on your side.
Good, 'cause I've got that hearing later, and I need you,
and as many teachers as possible,
to convince the committee I'm still up to the job.
Yeah, about that.
Pickwell has sort of started a smear campaign.
At her age, I wouldn't have thought it mattered.
-No-- -Throw her my bone.
Tell her, if she helps me get back my job,
I'll let her put creationism on the syllabus.
She's been banging on about that for years.
Look, I'll do everything I can.
Great. Well, in advance, a little crib sheet.
The de-Fraser Code.
Can't grow a full beard.
Right, skip the weakness section.
Strengths. There's your meat and two veg.
Right. This stuff is not gonna impress the committee.
-Grade three on the oboe. -It's really hard.
-Not color blind. -Yellow.
Appeared on Supermarket-- you appeared on Supermarket Sweep?
I did.
Right, the point is,
this shit is not gonna help me get your job back,
but you can do an impression of Michael Caine.
Blow on me bloody doors.
Yeah, I'd... I'd maybe put that one under weaknesses.
I'm sorry. You did not invent the "wassup" craze.
No one can prove that.
Wassuuuuuuup.
One spaghetti bolognese, and one--
Unfolded calzone stromboli. Ici, por favor.
You do know that calzones come folded?
Yeah, but it's half the fun.
You are such a bell end.
You see, it should look like a lung.
Garcon, couple of straws!
[smooth beat]
Well, um, I've checked the numbers,
four times,
and our class candidate for the school election
is definitely Edmund Millbank.
[laughing]
[mumbles indistinct]
Jing, what are the early forecasts?
The polls have Grayson way out in the lead.
The voters love his tough economic stance.
And he's scares them shitless.
Where are the school accounts?
Mitchell's working on it.
[suspenseful music]
See? Told you the FBI website was piss easy to hack, man.
I set up a campaign Twitter account.
Already got re-Tweet from Myleene Klass.
Ah, great, about which policy?
-I said I love the hair. -Well, that's a start.
What are we gonna do about David Millbank?
-You mean, you didn't hear? -No, what?
[indistinct chatter]
Before we begin this hustings,
I would like to extend a very warm welcome
to those members of the local education authority
who have joined us here today.
And, the rules:
No swearing, no music,
no spitting, no nudity.
And none of that global warming nonsense.
Everyone knows it's a hoopla
invented by tree-fingering socialists.
Good. So, to our first speaker, Frank Grayson,
standing as a Conservative.
[applause]
Welcome to the big society.
My motto, your problems ain't got shit to do with me.
The welfare state is brass.
Policies: I'm sacking the school nurse.
She's pointless, and she ain't even fit.
And secondly...
These nob heads, why waste my hard-earned moneys on them,
when instead we could spend it on this?
A massive sports day this summer!
I'm gonna build the school essential facilities,
like a velodrome and an equestrian center!
You get me?
So, vote for me, or watch your back,
'cause in the big society,
no one can hear you scream.
[timid applause]
All right, who's next? Oh, this'll be good.
It's Form K.
[pacing music]
Cheers, sugartits. I'll do the intros.
So, after being told
that I couldn't enter this election,
let alone win it,
here I am, with my very own candidate.
From the under 25's category,
please welcome, Joe Poulter!
Here's your speech.
-Whoo! -[applause]
Change of plan.
I've written you my own.
A bit punchier.
How are those accounts coming on?
Mitchell's still working on it.
And, with one click,
Mr. Wickers is on the world's Most Wanted list.
Is that the PE teacher?
[anxious music]
[muted dialogue]
You know, when you're written off as a coward,
it takes a lot of guts to get back up,
and show that woman who you really are.
Most politicians are like women.
Older women, in that they don't care about you.
They patronize you.
They don't listen to you in the staff room
when you're telling them about paintballing
at Chris Lammond's stag do.
-[whispering] Really good story. -[whispering] What?
[Joe] And like older women,
politicians make you think you've got a chance with them,
only to shit on you from up on their high horse.
The other side.
And for the record, I do smoke.
I get high all the time.
There's a photo of me on Facebook,
smoking a joint at Glastonbury.
At least I think Henry said it was weed,
but I couldn't hear, 'cause Moby was tearing up the dance tent.
[clapping]
Right, right, so that was as weird as expected.
-You nailed it. -I didn't nail it.
I just embarrassed myself in front of the whole school.
I never wanted to do this stupid election thing, anyway.
OK, next up from Form M is Edmund Millbank.
Wait, wait, sit down.
OK, this clearly isn't about the election anymore,
because thanks to you know who, it's been hijacked.
For once, could you behave like a real teacher.
Um, for the record, I am a real teacher.
A real teacher wouldn't force their pupils
to do things they don't want to do.
Homework.
A real teacher wouldn't put words
into their pupils' mouths.
French teacher. Any language, actually.
-You're embarrassing yourself. -Oh, get a room.
Oh, piss off!
[Pickwell] Yeah, okay.
I... I think we've had enough of the Gulliver show for one day,
unless you've got... I mean, unless you'd like to humiliate yourself.
Back off! You menopausal witch!
If you dare touch my garden, or Freddie's tree,
I will personally ram that hammer up your ass.
[students laughing]
Silence, silence!
Pull yourselves together.
I'd like the rest of this hustings
to be conducted with due decorum,
so back to the serious business of this election,
and our next candidate, from Form B,
Ben Poppit, who represents the... "the forces of good."
[energetic beat music]
I'm sorry for getting carried away
with the whole, whole election stuff.
Your little spectacle back there
has played right into my hands.
It's going to be even easier to lance two irritating abscesses.
You can't lance us.
Oh, I can, when I'm head mistress,
and the committee won't complain after seeing that performance.
You'll both be out.
Yeah? Well, that would be the case, if it wasn't for the fact
that Fraser's gonna get his job back.
Oh, stop pussy-parping, Wicker's, Fraser doesn't stand a chance.
This is a 500-page character assassination on Fraser.
I've compiled one on all of you.
-[door opens] -[woman] Mr. Wickers, please.
And you are?
Alfie Wickers. I teach Form K.
Slow bunch, but, you know,
kinda guys that you want to go for a pint with.
Not like now, obviously,
'cause they're underage, but...
I mean, most of them are lightweights.
I've never been for a drink with them.
So, how would you describe Shaquille Fraser?
You... Shaq... Shaquille?
That's your first name?
You said it was Simon.
Judging by that, you don't know Mr. Fraser at all well.
[Alfie] No, look.
Shaquille may come across as a bit of a guiche.
-No offense, Fraser. -Standard banter.
[exhales]
Look, I've done some shit here
that at any other school would definitely get me fired.
Maybe even arrested.
But, Fraser has never shouted at me, never got me in trouble,
and, you know, he loves this school.
He'd do anything for it. It's his life.
And... I know it might sound a bit lame,
but he's genuinely one of my best friends.
Well, I'm glad you get on so well.
Unfortunately, this has no bearing, whatsoever,
on his professional competency.
Can you tell me one thing Shaquille has achieved as headmaster?
Do you guys remember... wassup?
[fast-paced beat]
[man speaks indistinct]
You're up.
Oh, God.
Well, the hour is nearly upon us. What will I do first?
Oh, maybe I'll build a wicker man in the playground.
I wonder who will go in it.
[Jing] Sir, sir!
All right, coming.
[whispers] What?
-Look. It's the accounts. -What?
Oh, Jing, that's very sweet of you, but it's too late.
-Grayson's already won. -No, look.
This column shows the school's expenses,
and this column shows Pickwell's withdrawals.
They don't add up, you see?
One hundred and forty pounds in the school's expenses,
and 200 pounds in Pickwell's.
She's been making that withdraw every week for years.
Right. Um, could you explain that again?
As though you were explaining it to a child?
Pickwell's been fiddling her expenses.
Oh, God, Jing!
-I could kiss you! -Please don't.
-It might upset Chantelle. -Well done.
Why are you walking like you soiled yourself?
This is my swagger.
What have you got to swagger about?
Read it and weep.
Doubt it, haven't wept since 1990.
1990?
When she was hounded out of office by her own party.
Well, talking of being hounded out of office,
it would appear as though one member of staff
has been siphoning off public money... you.
This column?
Now, where's your evidence.
You think we didn't make copies?
We made copies, right, Jing?
[in Chinese] No.
Yeah, that is Chinese for many, many, many, multiple copies.
Yes, well I'll have you arrested. You stole this information.
Well, maybe you could tell the authorities?
They're just in here. I'm sure they wouldn't mind.
No, don't, please.
Well, I suggest, if you want to keep any kind of job,
you go in there, and tell your little pals at the council
that Fraser is the most amazing headmaster
you have ever had the privilege of working for.
Oh, and one more thing I'll need you to arrange, re: the election.
-Joe Poulter. -Out of the question.
Grayson's already won by a landslide.
Joe doesn't even want to be school president, Alfie.
But I think it would mean a great deal to Edmund.
Actually, I've got a better idea.
And the winner of the Abbey Grove election is, Ben Poppit.
[applause]
With great power comes great responsibility.
Thank you.
[applause]
[dance music]
I'm the headmaster!
God, I've got to go outside. I'm gonna be sick.
I'm feeling quite drunk.
Me too.
That's because I decided on a little celebration
for getting my job back.
I spiked the punch.
Are you out of your mind?
Not yet, but I do need to sit down.
Where's that wheelchair boy?
Remember, posture, eye contact,
throw in some cute giggles, maybe rest your hand on his arm,
and then, tell him you'll tug him off behind the bins.
Car keys, anyone?
No, thank you.
I couldn't anyway, they're my dad's.
The more the merrier.
[dance music]
Joe, can you get me some more punch?
[slow music plays]
You know when it's a new term,
and you get in your class,
and there's a kid,
and he's got potential but really frustrates you,
because one day they're a grade A,
and then the next day they're just like a kid,
who doesn't seem to care.
But then, um, by the end of the term,
you realize that, um, maybe they're perfect after all.
I have that exact same situation with Mitchell.
No, no, Alfie. It's a... metaphor.
[Chantelle sighs]
Put it on, put it on.
Um... I need, I need some air.
♪ You are my personal salmonella ♪
♪ Going off on a holiday ♪
♪ And having sex with Trevor ♪
♪ She's the egg smashing woman ♪
♪ Egg smashing woman ♪
♪ She's the egg smashing woman ♪
♪ And I am the egg ♪
♪ I've been smashed smashed by the woman ♪
♪ You had sex with Trevor ♪
♪ You fucking bitch ♪♪
[Alfie] So, that song was dedicated to a woman
called Rachel Perkins.
I am so over you,
and yeah, Rachel,
you can go around school telling everyone
that I haven't had sex, but two weeks ago,
I got half a hand job from Kelly Bright
on the Coach on the way home from Cheddar Gorge.