Look at these cunts. You're late. No, I'm not. Yeah, you are. You said 3:00. It's almost 4:00. Yeah, 3 for 4. You know your problem, Gary? You're never wrong. How is that a problem? I can't believe you bought another Granada Mark II. What do you mean? This looks exactly like the car I sold you in 1989. This is the car you sold me in 1989. Best 300 quid I ever spent. This is The Beast? Yeah.
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All right.
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Okay.
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And we're back. Just like the Five Musketeers. Three Musketeers, isn't it? Four if you count D'Artagnan, Well, nobody knows how many there were, really, do they, Pete? I mean, history's a sketchbook. You do know that The Three Musketeers is a fiction, right? Written by Alexandre Dumas? A lot of people are saying that about the Bible these days. What, that it was written by Alexandre Dumas? Don't be daft, Steve, it was written by Jesus. Oh. Anyway, five sounds much better. I think they missed a trick only having three. 'Cause you'd have five, then two could've died and they'd still have three left. Are we there yet? Let's do this!
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Oh, yes.
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Puck's sake, Gary, take a hint. It's all right, I'm not trying to have sex with you. Why are we in the disabled toilets then? There's something I need to tell you right now, unless you do want to have sex, in which case I'll tell you afterwards. Tell me right now. Have you noticed anything creepy about The Twins apart from the fact that they're twins? Just because they're twins doesn't automatically make them creepy. It does a little bit. You had sex with them. A, I did not, and, B, how did you know about that? A, it's a small town, B, I'm not stupid and, C, they told me. Right. Well, I did once, but I was wasted, which was creepy because it was like there was four of them. I am not proud of it. I am a bit. Is this what you wanted to tell me? No, this is...
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Maybe he had an accident. Oh, sorry, Andy. Sorry. No, no, no. It's fine. I think Gary having an accident would actually be the best outcome for all of us, including Gary.
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Come on! Gary. Gary! Let's just get in and out of this one, yeah? No more making new friends.
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Mum died. When? Couple of weeks ago.
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Gentlemen! The prodigal sons return! What will it be, one of our guest ales perchance?
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Oh, urn, I thought you should know. What?
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Have you got any plans for dinner at all? Tonight, we will be partaking of a liquid repast as we wend our way up The Golden Mile. Commencing with an inaugural tankard at The First Post, then onto The Old Familiar, The Famous Cock, The Cross Hands, The Good Companions, The Trusty Servant, The Two Headed Dog, The Mermaid, The Beehive, The King's Head and The Hole in the Wall for a measure of the same. All before the last bittersweet pint in that most fateful terminus, The World's End. Leave a light on, good lady, for though we may return with a twinkle in our eyes, we will, in truth, be blind drunk.
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Sam.
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Andy, did you see...
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That's a joke, right? Five guys. Twelve pubs. Fifty pints. Sixty pints. Steady on, you fucking alky. I haven't had a drink for 16 years, Gary. You must be thirsty then. We can go back, see the guys, chew the fat, it'll be just like it always was, except this time we're going to finish this thing once and for all. You have a very selective memory, Gary. Thanks. You remember the Friday nights. I remember the Monday mornings. Yeah, that's why we're going back on a Friday.
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Now, let's have a little chat about your future, shall we, hmm?