THE SCENE OPENS. The living room looks like a bomb hit a fancy dress shop and a kebab shop at the same time. A single, sad high heel lies on its side. A traffic cone is inexplicably on the coffee table. Confetti is stuck to everything.
A low, guttural GROAN.
Two hours later, they are all banned from a karaoke bar called “The Crooning Cod.”
Suddenly, the front door SLAMS open.
(Mumbling, not awake) Don’t… touch… me… lashes…
all scream in unison. The iconic synth bassline kicks in.
(Finally standing up, wobbling) THAT’S THE SPIRIT! GEORDIE SHORE, BABY! WE DON’T DO HANGOVERS. WE DO TOP-UPS. Geordie Shore
Welcome to the club, pet. Now get a brew down yer and tell us who you’re gonna chin today.
pours vodka on her bacon sandwich and eats it.
NATHAN (23) comes sliding down the banister. He is fully dressed in a glittery gold mankini. He looks alarmingly fresh. THE SCENE OPENS
(Pointing at the bedroom) Marnie. She’s getting both barrels. And then I’m getting in the shower, I’m putting on a fresh pair of joggers, and we are going OUT.
CHLOE (21), mascara smeared down her face like she’s auditioning for a horror film, rolls off the sofa. She lands on a half-inflated inflatable dolphin.