This programme contains strong language
This programme contains scenes which some viewers may find disturbing
Yes!
You shouldn't be here.
Cheers. I'll be two minutes.
Ah!
Aah! Ah-ah. Oh!
Evening.
Good evening. Um...
I'm with the stag party from London. Are they here yet?
♪ I'm still standing Better than I ever did
♪ Looking like a true survivor Feeling like a little kid
♪ I'm still standing After all this time... ♪
♪ I'm still standing
♪ Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Angus! Johnners!
Holy crap!
Hello...
...mate.
It's Ian.
Your future... brother-in-law.
I'm here for the stag.
'This is bullshit.'
He's taken Christophe's place.
Christophe's not coming? Didn't reply to the e-mails.
What about Runcie?
Runcie's still in prison.
This is the best we could come up with.
Listen, Ledge, I know it's tradition to have a stripper,
and I know it's tradition to book a dwarf,
but let's not combine the two, eh? It's freaking me out.
You're Ledge?
Your invite said black tie.
Bring it - not arrive in it.
And what happened to meeting at the crossroads?
It's raining is what happened.
I sent the man to fetch you.
Hey!
I'm not joking. Put it in a cab.
Thank you.
Next time we dine, it'll be on fresh venison. Right, guys?
Everyone, everybody, listen. Chaps, chaps, chaps, chaps! Stag's talking!
When the stag's talking, shut the hell up. That's a rule, OK?
Mexico, write it down.
OK. Everybody, this is Ian. Er, Fran's big brother.
How small is Fran?
Ian, this is Ledge.
Best man. Oldest buddy.
Ludgrove. Harrow. Durham. Deutsche Bank.
This is Mexican. He works on the floor below us. Aitken. Prep school.
Neils, he works for the Copenhagen office.
Yeah! Denmark!
Cosmo, er, known him since halls.
Does... something in the media.
Development producer.
Then, of course, there's Wendy, who looks after our books.
Oh, what, like some sort of freelance librarian?
No. He's just our accountant.
Ah, yeah. Sorry. Yeah.
Ooh. Actually...
Sorry, I ordered a non-meat option.
On a hunting holiday?
Well, to be honest, I won't be taking part in any of the...
death.
I'm not a blood sportsman.
A blood sports man.
What the hell are you doing here, then?
Uh... Er, Ian was just telling me
how he was going to drink you all under the table.
"Pussies" was the word I think he used.
Oooh! Oh! Oh!
Wendy...
You better knock that back. You're on catch-up.
Perky pinkie, don't forget. Sorry, what?
You have to have your little finger up when you drink. Stag rules.
All right.
Hurray!
Ah. I'm not a big drinker, to be honest. That was...
Plus, the gamekeeper's outside.
Seemed like he wanted to get going.
Then, you'd better drink up.
Hey! 'Hey! Just checking you found the guys all right?'
I did do. 'Yeah. They take a bit of working out, don't they?'
Not for me. I've only been with them five minutes
and I already know exactly what kind of guys they are.
There you go. For 2K, all-in,
we're guaranteed a weekend's worth of pure man-shit, my friends.
Sleeping rough, hanging tough,
stalking a prime red deer stag across the Highlands
and shooting it in the tits.
Come on!
Of course, I know the REAL reason you're ringing. 'You do?'
You're worried I'm going to lead Angus astray. 'Ha-ha! Yeah, right.
'Seriously, Ian, I need your help on this.
'Can you just look after him for me?'
You want ME to look after HIM?
'We've not been together that long.
'I don't know his mates that well.
'Or what they've got in store for him.'
Fran... 'I mean, is he even dressed appropriately?
'Just promise me you'll make sure he comes back in one piece.'
Fran. He'll be fine. 'Promise me.' Promise.
'Ian!'
I promise.
OK. Bye. Bye.
They've left without paying.
Oh! I'll go and get them.
No, you won't.
What's to say you won't just leave with them?
It's not really my bill, anyway. I've hardly drunk anything.
You've drunk the most.
£580?
W-what...?
Come on, then.
Play on, Centurion.
I'm just waiting on a connection. Yeah.
Argh!
Wait!
You forgot me! Hey, guys! Wait!
Guys! You forgot me!
Guys!
Aw. Shall we let him in? Nah. Fuck him!
Come on, then! Come on, then!
'Cromarty, Forth. Southwest seven to severe gale nine.
'Bearing west. Gale eight to storm ten.
'Rain...'
What about some music?
Message In A Bottle by The Police
Whoo! Yeah!
Right. La questionnaire. 40 questions about Tom Thumb's sister.
What she's like in the sack and so on.
Oh! Hit me, hit me!
Right. Question numero uno. When's Fran's birthday?
Oh! Come on! Too easy.
He doesn't know.
I do. But it's boring.
Where are the good questions?
Come on!
OK. Numero... two.
Gillette, Tussauds, or Sherwood?
Oh! Whoo!
I don't understand.
Your sister's front garden.
Is it Gillette, Tussauds or the Forest of Sherwood?
Her private parts! Is she shaven, waxed, or unkempt?
Urgh! I'm not gonna answer that!
He's not saying he doesn't know! Oh!
No!
River says no.
Pardon me?
She's flooded and we're too heavy.
This is the only way in.
There'll be no hunting this weekend.
Now, hang on, matey. What are we paying you for?
If we'd been here earlier, there wouldn't have been a problem.
We would have been here earlier
if we didn't have to wait for the Penguin.
Yeah, 003.5. Croupier Gollum.
I was late because you left me at the meeting point, right?
Just like you let me in the pub when I was busy paying your bill.
All £600 of it.
So, let's be clear, you've never waited for me once.
Oooh!
Guys! Stag's talking, everyone.
There's bound to be a lot of banter this weekend. OK, it's us,
so it comes with the territory, but keep it light, OK?
No-one need get injured. Have a little respect for your fellow man.
Driver!
Is there any way, any way at all, we can get across
this "wee burn" here?
Right.
When you're all across, I'll follow in the vehicle.
If you do get washed away and you survive,
make sure you get out this side.
There's far fewer stags this side of the water.
Stags are good, though, aren't they?
Not without a gun, they're not.
And when will we be allowed to have one of those?
Out of interest.
If a stag sees you,
he'll either attack you
if he thinks you're a rival.
Or if he thinks you're a female...
...he will rape you.
Any questions?
Is this definitely the only way?
No.
We can cross at the old dam but that's a seven-hour hike from there.
Um...
Er, how do we get back again?
When the river lets you.
So, ITV2 are this close to commissioning
How To Look Good Homeless,
and I'm marooned in some Third-World grotto that can't even muster 2G!
It's a travesty.
A bloody travesty.
My bag!
Got to keep moving!
My bag! It's all my stuff!
Come on! Come on!
Yeah, get a McMove on!
You're supposed to take us hunting, not stand around looking Scottish!
Probably too full of Mars Bars and batter to move, isn't he?!
Come on! In your own time! Come on!
He's abandoning us! He's taking a run-up, you moron!
That's a considerable run-up.
Don't suppose anybody's got any spare clothes?
I need it back for the dinner on Sunday, OK? Yes.
It's never on the news, is it - stags on trial for rape and that?
Just scare-mongering, that's all that was.
Whoa!
Is it rape if they don't understand the word "no"?
Probably just... a lumberjack chopping trees.
At 11.30 at night?
Wait! Stop! This is ridiculous! Where are we even going?
Ledge?
I don't know. But you're best man!
Best men can't do everything.
And don't give me that look. Not one of you bastards RSVP'd
to the original e-vite and now you come at me with all this shit.
Where are you taking us, mate? I'm not taking us anywhere!
I took us to the pub, met the gamekeeper.
That's what it said to do and then HE takes it from there.
But now the gamekeeper has gone.
Nothing gets past Peter Schmeichel(!)
Don't take it out on him. What was wrong with indoor golf
and a boozy lunch in Battersea? That's what I want to know.
Come on, Ledge. What are we going to do?
We could always...
Well, we could always... pitch camp... in that clearing...
...light a fire, have a few beers
and get our bearings in the morning?
In the a.m.
All right.
After you.
Good.
Nice one, Ian.
'Thermal what?'
Fear Mor. It's all over the internet.
How have you got data?
I haven't got data. This is SO unfair.
The Fear Mor. It's, like, this Scottish giant.
Hides in the mist. Comes out of nowhere.
I read about this guy, who was just here on a rambling holiday,
minding his own beeswax...
...and he got ripped apart like a rag-doll.
I'm telling you... this thing is evil.
Like Sasquatch?
No, not really.
More like the BFG...
...but without the F.
A Bee Gee?
Neils, you idiot!
What?
What did you just say?
What did Johnners say about respect?
I think, Ian, you probably owe Neils an apology.
Yeah!
This is a... This is a bit, isn't it? We're doing a thing.
"Goes with the territory."
This isn't a thing.
Sorry, Neils.
What a bag of dicks.
Maybe you should leave.
I'm sorry, I...
No. It's fine. I feel exactly the same way.
These are the worst kind of people.
I thought you'd been friends with them since school?
That's how I know they're the worst kind of people.
Here. What's that? It's the kitty.
What we owe you from the pub. There's £800 there,
plus Ledge's Coutts card. When the gamekeeper comes back,
get him to take you back to the pub. From there, you get a cab
and you take that cab all the way back to London.
Eastbourne. Wherever you want.
In fact, do you know what? I'll come with you.
We'll go as a duo, the two of us. A pair. We'll run. No. Yes!
I can't. Let's go! Come on. I can't.
Come on. We can nip out the back door... Flap.
I can't, all right?
I made a promise... to my sister.
I'm staying.
OK. Well, in that case, we stick together.
We watch each other's backs, because that is the only way
you're going to get through this.
You got it?
Have you got it, Ian? Yes.
Yes, I have, thank you.
Right, let's get back out there.
Sorry, can I just... Yep.
Sorry. Sorry, Ian.
OK.
Everybody... grab a tin.
Hold on.
OK... rolling!
Right... first order of business...
...no calls, no cameras, no e-mails.
It's time to lock this down.
That jumped-up Jock thought he could leave us to perish.
He didn't think we'd survive a second.
Even me?
But look at us... We didn't just survive. We thrived!
We've built a camp! We've made fire!
Yeah!
We're seven Bear Grylls...
...with a monkey butler.
What will happen over the next 72 hours will change us as men.
We will be defined by our time in these hills,
on these heaths.
And when we get home, we will say - to people that we trust and without
giving away too many details - that we saw off our friend in style!
Wait, wait, wait...
That this was the stag to end all stags!
Yeah!
The stag-hunting stag of Angus "Johnners" Johnson,
the best friend a man could have!
Hold that, Aitken. Best man can't do everything.
Now, ladies...
...I'd like you to raise your drink...
And your pinkies. Thank you, Mexico.
Allow me to make the first of many toasts...
...to the kill!
To the kill!
The kill.
Aitken?
Oh, that IS a shame.
Argh!
Jesus Christ!
Aitken!
What did I miss?
What the hell even was that?
It looked like some kind of claw.
Maybe it's all part of it. Part of the stag package, right, Ledge?
Yeah, like some kind of practical joke. It wasn't on the website.
Seriously, guys... He could have survived.
We gave him dead legs and Chinese burns
all the way through prep school and it never seemed to bother him.
We should get going. Quite right. Let's get going.
I'm colder than Walt Disney.
Wait!
Shouldn't we go back?
He's your friend.
Besides, you said so yourself, the poor guy might not be dead.
OK, you're right.
But it doesn't really feel like a seven-man job, does it?
Well, come on, then.
So, erm, "Wendy". Is that...
Is that like a nickname they gave you at school?
I wasn't at school with them.
This has to be the worst stag weekend ever.
You weren't in Zagreb.
What happened in Zagreb?
I get it. What happens in Zagreb stays in Zagreb.
Or Prague or Amsterdam or Dusseldorf.
They're all horrific.
That lot have more money than sense.
So, if these weekends are so bad, why did you come?
Mate, have you got kids?
I've got three. Triplets.
IVF nightmare.
Like buses.
Really expensive buses.
I only come on these stupid trips to escape.
The problem is, as soon as I get away from the kids...
...I miss 'em like hell.
Left or right?
Whoever finds him...
...or whatever's left of him,
shouts to the other one and we meet back here.
What do we shout?
"Argh."
Want to practise it before we go?
There's no need.
You should practise it.
Argh.
Argh!
No?
ARGH!
(Bloody hell.)
'Ah, to hell with it.'
I was going to save these for Sunday,
but we may as well break these bad boys out of jail now, eh?
Hmm?
Right, question number five...
I don't want to answer any more questions about my sex life, OK?!
Because it's not what it was with that ex of yours. Sophie!
Ah! Crazy in the head and crazy in bed.
How would YOU know?
Shagged her at Glasto, during Mumford & Sons, didn't he?
It's all water under the Chelsea Bridge, mate.
Anyway, you're wrong.
It was Ed Sheeran.
Dirty ginger bastard.
Hello?
It's me.
It's Wendy. Are you there?
Argh!
Wendy!
ARGH!
WENDY!
I'VE FOUND THE LEGS!
He's been separated.
Aitken. Separated.
Oh, God!
Where's Wendy?
I don't know.
Did you find the bag of phones? I don't know.
Either you did or you didn't. Is he waiting down there? I don't know!
Forget Wendy.
Look at Aitken.
Oh, this is fucked-up.
You know what's REALLY fucked-up?
This is awful. This is just so awful.
What in God's name is happening?!
Who the hell is doing this to us?
And why?!
Guys, just grab the bare minimum. This isn't a jolly.
All we're doing is leaving, OK?
Right, let's do this. Ledge. Right, um... OK.
Eh... Let me think...
If only Christophe was here, he'd know what to do.
Well, he's NOT here, is he? Right. Good. OK.
So, we keep things simple. We pick a line,
a straight line, and we stick to it.
It never fails. The Romans did it.
Crows do it. Eh, Forrest Gump did it.
Bang goes my plan of zigzagging our way out of here.
A line in which direction? Think about it. Where do most people live?
China?
South. England is south of here.
Exactly. Africa is south of here.
Yes, that's also true. Not quite as useful, but the point remains,
we head south, we are BOUND to bump into someone.
Which way is south?
Why ask him? He can barely see over the bracken.
He's a geography teacher. What, in real life?
We can, erm, use the sun, to navigate.
Old sailing trick. Rises in the west, sets in the east.
Other way round. Other way round. Exactly.
Who needs Christophe, eh? Right. Everyone, strap on, follow me,
keeping the sun on your left.
Good work, buddy. Took the words right out of my mouth.
Do crows fly south? If they find themselves in Scotland, they do.
Come on.
Don't you think we should just...
maybe, just bury the legs?
And what?
Give the man two graves?
Not on my watch.
In the fullness of time, we will find his chest, arms and head.
And when we find his chest, arms and head... Torso. What?
Torso.
Please don't interrupt me, Ian. OK.
When we find his chest, arms and head...
...we will bury him whole.
It's a question of dignity. OK.
But, maybe, for now, we could... What? ..you know,
just... pop them in a bag?
'One, two, three...'
It's beautiful up here. Yes.
Yes.
Argh!
Happy? Cool.
Off you go, then.
What? It's your bag, isn't it?
Yes, but I'm not touching it.
I'm not going anywhere near it.
Might be a bomb in it.
Why have you brought a bomb with you, mate?
No, I'm saying that, obviously, it's a trap.
We should keep well clear.
Come off it, a trap?
Well, it didn't just wheel itself here, did it?
Somebody has put it there. Who? Whoever's doing all of this.
The gamekeeper.
I mean, that IS who's doing all this, right?
But why, though?
Somebody must have got up his nose.
Sorry, uh, was that for MY benefit? I'm just thinking,
it could have been you that he was aiming at when he shot Aitken.
You had been talking down to him all night. "Talking down"?
As if he worked for you. He did. And not hard enough.
The man had an appalling work ethic.
I'm sorry to be the one to give YOU the geography lesson,
but he's on the wrong side of the river, so it can't be him.
You think the hard-as-nuts gamekeeper couldn't have made it
across the river in his Land Rover, when we made it across naked?
Still doesn't explain Wendy, though, does it?
What about those freaks back at that boozer?
The foxy waitress. The chef. The farmers playing snooker.
What about the Fear Mor?
Think about it - the way they were dragged away,
chopped in half like watermelons.
Enough of the Gruffalo bullshit. Stop it! This is EXACTLY what
the gamekeeper wants - to mess with our heads.
Ian, what is in your cheap-looking bag? Er...
I dunno. Erm... Cripes... OK...
An alarm clock, travel adaptor,
pyjamas, change of socks, my Kindle, bottle of Shy-raz.
A tube of Pringles... Whoa, whoa, whoa! Back up.
What was that? Pringles. Spicy BBQ - not everyone's cup of tea...
No, no, the other one.
A bottle of Shy-raz?
Shy-raz?
And this "Shy-raz", Ian... Yeah.
...is it screw-top or cork?
Screw-top, I think.
Christ, is there no decency? Au contraire, Ledge.
Unless you're packing a corkscrew,
the wee man's cheapskatery may a blessing from above!
I've got a mouth like Gandhi's sandal and, given the fact that
we're meant to have a fresh bevvies in our hand every half-hour...
To be fair, that IS in here somewhere.
...then, by my watch, the time is, er...
Ooh!
O-wine-hundred.
Guys...
if Cosmo wants the Shiraz... Cosmo gets the Shiraz.
Uh-huh!
(I think it's actually pronounced Shy-raz.
(It's no big deal.)
Easy...
Whoa!
Whoo! Bravo!
Down the hatch!
Oh, shitfuck!
And I never had that drink with Nick Knowles.
Holy crap, he's dead.
No, he's not. He's fine.
Cosmo, mate, don't go anywhere!
What's your body weight?
Why?
Why?!
You've got a phone!
No.
You've had that all this time! Please.
The others will kill me. If they don't get killed first.
Why didn't you call the police?
I haven't had any bloody signal.
Listen, pal...
I'm as broke as it comes, OK?
The others, they...
They talked me into sinking all my cash into some stupid
offshore scheme in Guernsey.
And that's why everything is pinned on How To Look Good Homeless.
What?
Caroline Flack gives botox
and bling to six lucky tramps from across the UK.
Now, if I don't get the call from ITV2...
I lose the lot.
HMRC has my cock on a block.
And you have blood on your hands.
This isn't working. Maybe we should just leave them and save ourselves.
We can hear you, you know!
Oh, come on, Cosmo, don't pretend you wouldn't do the same.
If you go without me...
I'll tell everyone your Chatroulette story.
OK, fellas. Put your back into it.
Is that a splint?
Wait, wait, the wine.
Oh...
We'll have to send someone back.
No need.
Stop.
The alcohol should go to Cosmo.
The man is injured and right now, this supermarket Shiraz
is the closest thing we've got to an anaesthetic.
Well, it's day one of medical school, isn't it?
Wait... Why do I need an anaes...?
No.
No, no, no, NO!
Argh!
It's a very nice drop, this, actually, Ian.
£6.99.
It's very drinkable.
Yeah, clearly.
Hey, this is a serious bloody injury, I'll have you know.
Yeah, minor miracle you're still standing.
♪ You can never know what it's like
♪ Your blood like winter freezes just like ice
♪ And there's a cold, lonely light that shines from you
♪ You'll wind up like that wreck you hide
♪ Behind that mask you use
♪ And did you think this fool could never win? ♪
Yeah!
♪ Well, look at me, I'm coming back again
♪ I got a taste of love in a simple way
♪ And if you need to know while I'm still standing
♪ You just fade away
♪ Don't you know I'm still standing?
♪ After all this time
♪ Picking up the pieces of my life without you on my mind
♪ I'm still standing
♪ Yeah, yeah, yeah!
♪ I'm still standing
♪ Yeah, yeah, yeah! ♪
Bit of a secret Elton fan, then?
What's that supposed to mean?
It's not supposed to mean anything.
With the help of Bernie Taupin, Elton John writes good songs.
I agree. That's his job.
I know.
I wasn't saying you're a...
Not that I have anything against... You don't know me.
You don't know my friends.
They call me The Mexican,
and I'll take that.
Do you understand?
Yeah.
Is anyone else getting that?
You guys getting that?
Genius, mate!
Guys...
What did I say?
What did I tell you, hmm?
"Head south and ye shall find."
Well, there's no-one here.
If there isn't a phone here, at least one,
I'm a chocolate kettle, I really am.
These are our...
This isn't someone else's...
Been walking in a huge circle.
Oh, fuck!
It's not your fault, mate.
Well, in fairness, who else is to blame?
Oh, Sugar Puffs.
Sugar Puffs? I'll give you fucking Sugar Puffs, mate.
"Keep the sun on the left," he said.
Well, that worked an absolute treat, and now the sun's going down.
Fucking ideal!
I was trying to make a helpful suggestion.
Yeah, well, maybe keep those helpful suggestions to yourself from now on.
None of it adds up, if you ask me.
He rocks up in a Poundland tux and expects us all
to believe he's the bride's brother.
He is.
Really? Johnners didn't even recognise you.
Well, I'm slightly forgettable.
Take it easy, guys.
No, no, no.
I want to know what you were doing in that tent with Aitken.
I want to know what you were doing in those woods with Wendy.
I want to know why you packed a bomb.
What are you saying?
I think, mate...
...that you've got something to hide.
Think away, mate.
Oof!
I want to know why you have the kitty.
Aitken had the kitty, Ian, and now he's dead.
Why do you have the kitty, Ian?
This is most irregular.
Every little helps. Let's go!
(How long do you think we give it?)
A week.
It's fresh.
Neils, this fucking stinks.
He fucking stinks.
Maybe that's how it knows where we are.
The Fear Mor.
The same way sharks can sense blood from miles away,
maybe whatever's doing this...
No, you don't need superpowers to smell that.
Let's just ditch him.
You ditch Wendy, you ditch me too.
It's not as if it's his head. Guys...
Guys?
Guys.
That's a freshwater tributary.
Oh, sweet Aled Jones, man, what are you on about?
Do you know what? It doesn't matter.
I'm just a teacher, on 21K, who drives a Ford Focus
and listens to Radio 2.
You guys are the best and the brightest, aren't you?
Things work out for guys like you
so I'm just going to follow this tributary here, which I think
is freshwater, which hopefully means it'll lead to a loch.
I'd suggest you follow,
but I've been told to keep my helpful suggestions to myself.
Best man says let him go.
I'm not comfortable taking orders from a guy who only
earns 21,000 a month. A year.
Fuck me!
The boat, the boat!
Go, go, go, go, go!
Hang on!
Guys!
Go, go, go!
Come on!
Wait!
Come on, Neils! Wait!
Neils, come on!
Wait!
Where are you going?! Neils!
I'm going to make it! Come on!
I'm going to successfully leap onto that fucking boat!
Come on!
Argh!
He had two kids, as well.
Wendy had three.
As if that makes it any worse.
I'm serious.
Why do people always say that?
Because it's sad when children lose their parents.
Who's going to tell Wendy's wife?
That is not a text I would like to write.
Look.
Hello?
I'm going to find a phone.
Cos...?
Yup.
Find a phone, mate?
Yup.
Aitken.
The line's down.
Oh...
I'm going to enjoy this.
What will happen now?