Vince, preoccupied with Stuart's earlier revelation, asks him, "So when did you have Phil, then?" He's trying really hard to be nonchalant about it, which only makes his interest and jealousy more obvious. Stuart tells him it was May 1, Election Night. Vince says that he didn't think Phil was Stuart's type. "He wasn't, was he? He was half lard," replies Stuart, obviously not hampered by the custom to not speak ill of the dead, especially if the body's still warm and you're actually sitting amongst the dead's family and friends at their funeral. "I was having that boy...What's his name...?" Stuart pauses the stories of his sexual exploits out of respect for the fact that the pallbearers are now carrying his friend's casket past them. I totally take back what I said about him not having any manners. "Winston," he tells Vince, having remembered this detail after the coffin has passed. Stuart says that everyone else in the room, all six of them, just started joining in, when Phil threw himself on top of the heap. "Phil never said," Vince says. "I thought he hated you." Stuart snorts, "Well, he was all over me." He tells Vince that, while Phil was trying to snog him, he was crying out, "Get off! Get off!" and that someone called Big Bob was in on the act, too. "You've had Big Bob?" Vince asks him incredulously. "If that's what he calls big," Stuart says, leaning forward for the cute boy's benefit, "I'm the fucking...Colossus." The boy, who's turned his head to hear this bit, looks toward the front of the church as the service begins. Both he and Stuart wear slight smiles. "Is there anyone you haven't had?" Vince asks, and I fall over in shock that he even needs to ask.
Nathan, meanwhile, is sitting in class, staring at Christian Hobbs and sketching the boy with serious concentration on Christian's bum. Donna, sitting in the desk next to Nathan, looks over at him and sees what he's drawing. Her eyes grow wide, but she just looks to the lecturing teacher at the front of the class and ignores Nathan's furious ass-sketching. Hah, I used to do that when the girl sitting next to me in freshman English would spend the whole period writing sex notes to her boyfriend, except I think she drooled a little less than Nathan currently is.
Back at the funeral, the vicar calls Vince up to give the reading. At the altar, a very nervous, uneasy-looking Vince tells the congregation how Phil had discovered a bruise on his leg the year before, and had started freaking out that he was dying; that's when he planned his whole funeral. They all titter in the right place -- when Vince reveals that Phil had merely banged his leg on a stepladder -- and listen intently as he gives the reading: "D-I-S-C-O. I say, D-I-S-C-O. She is D, delirious. She is I, incredible. She is S, superficial. She is C, crazy, crazy. O -- oh, oh." Is that funny? It must be, because the people at the funeral sure are yukking it up. I, it must be said, cannot muster the will. It wasn't funny.