As the camera pans up, we see a blurry Nathan over his shoulder, and -- as if he's right on cue -- Stuart tosses the mobile over his shoulder, where it lands in Nathan's open palms. "Happy birthday. We're off," Stuart tells him. "Off where?" he asks. "Where d'you think, young fellow me lad?" Vince asks cheerfully, climbing into the Jeep. "Into the headlines!" "You never know; you might finally get that shag," Stuart says as he makes his way to the driver's side of the Jeep. "Oh, give up! Quit chasing me!" Vince cries, rolling his eyes and smiling at Nathan. Aww. I'm starting to cry, people. Nathan asks them if they're coming back, and Stuart starts one hell of a monologue: "What, come back to this? The ghetto: alleyways stinking of piss, beggars in every doorway, straights and students coming to look at the freak show, and all the idiots saving all week, saving their stupid money from their stupid idiot jobs so they can come and shoot their load with some stranger." As the clouds overhead start to roll and darken to black, he continues. "And just you look after it, this stupid little street. It's the middle of the world. Cos on a street like this, every single night, anyone can meet anyone. And every single night, someone meets someone." Vince climbs out of the Jeep and joins Stuart at his side, speaking directly to Nathan. "It's all yours now; all of them -- all the poofs and all the dykes, and all the people in between," he says as the street suddenly becomes populated with slightly blurry pedestrians. "And this lot, they'll shag ya. They'll rob ya. Some of them might even love ya. And they'll all forget you in the end. Just stick with your friends -- you'll be fine," he says in an almost fatherly way. I'm pretty much sobbing at this point, just in case you thought I had an ounce of pride left. How wrong you were. "You fuck it up, and I'll come back," Stuart threatens with a grin. Nathan smiles as Stuart and Vince face each other, then run towards the Jeep. Stuart sits in the driver's seat, puts the key into the glowing ignition and then the car turns completely around. Stuart looks at Vince, then puts the car into gear and accelerates. They peel down Canal Street, with Nathan and the other people in the street diving for cover, and as the Jeep reaches the end of Canal Street, it seems to take off like a rocket, with a white light illuminating it from underneath, as Vince yells his trademark, "OH! MY GOD!"
The Jeep is suddenly driving down a winding highway, supposedly in Arizona (it looks like Arizona, but the road signs are contemptibly fake). It pulls into a truck stop, and Stuart and Vince jump out and walk through the dusty parking lot together, tanned, smiling and holding hands. As they make their way towards the "restaurant" (quotation marks very necessary), a very dirty, tubby man walks past and calls them "faggots." "Excuse me, what did you say?" asks Vince. "You heard me," the yokel tells him. "Cos I've gotta warn you: my friend here's got a hell of a temper, once he's off. So, what did you say?" Vince asks again. "I said, 'faggots,'" comes the answer, with a spit somewhere in the middle. Vince turns to Stuart and asks him what he thinks. "Blood," Stuart says simply, pulling a gun from the waistband of his black jeans and holding it to the dentally-challenged trucker's forehead. "Hold on a tick. Bit deaf, mate," Vince says, raising his voice. "Too many nights out clubbing. So, one more time -- what did you say?" The trucker, shaking and taking deep breaths, says, "Nothin'." "And one more word, beginning with 'S,'" Vince prompts him. "Sorry," he says, running away when Stuart finally lowers the gun. "Maybe next time," Vince says. "Fuck off," replies Stuart with a grin, tucking the gun back into the waist of his jeans as they turn and walk away.