(Greg is on British airways flight to London Heathrow, it is the 11th of November and a rather gloomy Sunday, he bid his home town of St. Louisville Farewell, as well as his mother, father, and granddad, at their funeral and now he is on the plane pondering…)
Greg (thinking to himself): How on earth could this have happened, all my family are meeting their makers and my friends have left me behind, how on earth am I supposed to fit in to England where there all so posh me and my overalls will have enough dirt on them to make them faint or die. Oh I'm gonna look like such a piece of trailer trash, and my accent will just add to that, good thing I don’t have buck teeth, or I’ll have been sent straight to freak circus…
(Later the plane lands at Heathrow Greg manages to pick up his luggage, a flight attendant leads him to a waiting taxi)
Taxi Driver: Goin' to Mortdale.
Greg: Yes (The taxi sets off)
Greg (thinking to himself) : Okay I’m alone in a foreign country, praying that this guy is not a homosexual rapist, or simply I hope he knows his way, although he sounds rough, I wonder what Mortdale will be like, sunshine and smiles probably…
(Taxi passes a sign that Greg reads “Welcome to Mortdale” but the welcome has been gratified as “Fuck off” hooded youths run around, and upon seeing the taxi they seem to back away although Greg notes there backing away from the taxi driver not him, upon seeing him they glare openly)
Greg: They…erm… look friendly.
Taxi Driver: They fuckin' ay
Greg: Right… (Upon saying this Greg spots the town of Mortdale)
Greg: And here is Mortdale oh well this… is … nice…
(Mortdale is bathed in grey, grey clouds, buildings, roads, and people wearing grey, worn down buildings litter the town, as well as small Chinese and Asian takeaway’s there isn't a mansion in sight)
Greg: (to taxi driver): Are you sure this is the right place?
Taxi Driver: You tryin' to tell me I don’t know my way around!
Greg: (unnerved) No, no of course not!
Taxi Driver: Good.
Greg (To himself): Well that was rude.
Taxi Driver: STOP GIVING ME DIRTY LOOKS!
(They drive past a street where Greg witnesses a group of hooded youths attacking an innocent man)
Greg: Oh in sweet name of Alabama, what y'all gonna do about that!
Taxi Driver: Move on it ain't our problem.
Greg: But it looks like there actually gonna kill the man…
Taxi Driver (Coldly): It- ain't- our- problem-we-cor-do-anything-about-it.
Greg: But the police?
Taxi Driver: Fine, whatever the police, they’ll do something…
Greg (to himself): What sort of town is this is?
Taxi Driver: STOP WITH THE FUCKIN' DIRTY LOOKS!
Taxi Driver: Good.
Greg: But c'mon ain't this a bit extreme? Ain't you bothered with this?
(The taxi driver turns to Greg a frosty expression on his face)
Taxi Driver: Shut up wanker, or so help me I’ll throw you in the middle of em…
Greg: Okay… okay, I'm shutting up now.
(They drive on in silence and finally they reach a small council house)
Taxi Driver: Were here.
Greg: Is this it? (Taxi driver glares at him)
Greg: I mean wow is this it, I was expecting it to be so much smaller. (Taxi driver seems satisfied)
(Greg steps out of the taxi his cousin Daniel is there waiting for him)
Daniel: Alrite Greg.
Greg: Hey Cousin… Whoa what the… (He is shocked by his cousin’s appearance, Daniel is 26 Greg knows this, but he looks around 50, with a wrinkly face and bloodshot eyes, he is stick thin and pale, with a ciggie in one hand and a Carlsberg in the other)
Greg (before he can stop himself): Cousin Daniel what happened to you?!
Daniel: It’s Cousin Daz.
Greg: But you look older!
Daz: Well duh, dumbshit, five years have passed, I do age like everyone else.
Greg: But last time you visited us, y’all looked so young and y’all were in great shape… (He is cut off by the Taxi driver)
Taxi Driver: Oi Daz! you got my pay!
Daz: Course here. (He hands a bag of white powder to the taxi driver)
Greg: Don’t y'all pay each other good money?
(They glare at him, he backs off)
Taxi driver: Great thanks for the coke mate.
Daz: Anytime mate.
(The taxi driver speeds off, but not before literally throwing all of Greg’s suitcases on him)
Greg (under weight of suitcases): Help me…
Daz: Of course how rude of me… (Greg smiles)
Daz: Not to introduce the family (Greg groans as a fat woman; with tied up black hair and huge golden earrings comes to greet him)
Shaz: Alrite, I'm Shaz, I’m Daz's girlfriend.
Greg: Nice to meet you. (He offers his hand, But Shaz turns and…)
Shaz: Here is our Pit-bull, Lake (Lake bounds into the garden he growls at Greg and then begins to bite him)
Greg: GET HIM OFF ME!
Shaz: It’s Alrite he day bite.
Daz: Oh for fuck’s sake man, just pull him off.
Greg: I CAN’T, HELP!
Daz: For fuck’s sake, Lake go hunting! (Lake obeys and races off down the streets)
Greg: Jesus Christ, what’s a matter with that dog.
Shaz: It's Alrite babe he’ll grow on ya.
Greg: (Hopefully): So is that the only dog you have?
Greg: (Relived) so can y’all show me round the house.
Shaz: Course. (Enter cribs mode)
Shaz: This the main hall. (Shoes scattered all over the place, beers and ciggies on the floor, a thin staircase leads to the upper floors, items like the puke on the floor the decaying walls are zoomed in on as hip hop music plays in the background)
Shaz: (To camera, that has suddenly appeared) So yeah, I feel like this gives a very spacious opening to our crib… (Off camera Greg is being crushed by trying to avoid all the filth)
Shaz: So shall we move on to living room mind the dog shite. (They move into the living woods, there are two moth eaten sofas, beer’s and ciggies are everywhere, and a group of “Friends” are having an orgy)
Shaz: So this is the heart of the house where all the magic and activity happens
Friends: HEY, YOU FUCKERS, YAHHHHHHHHH!
Shaz: Hey go on Greg doe be shy join in (Camera cuts to Greg who is smiling nervously, trying to cover his inner shock, at what he is witnessing)
Greg: Maybe later…
Daz: Now that’s a lad, saving the best till last.
Shaz: So anyhow here's the TV, burrowed it from ASDA. (Winks at camera in a way that purely states that she stole it)
Shaz: So onto the kitchen (Cut to rotting food, as well as an endless supply of beer bottles and pot noodles)
Daz: So I’ll take you upstairs (they go upstairs, enter Lake’s pet room where there is shite and piss everywhere and a few human limbs are lying under the pet bowl, camera zooms on these).
Daz: He ain’t the cleanest dog in the world but his my fucking dog, and he loves us all really.
Greg (off camera and too himself): Yes he’s got a heart of gold that dog, no he did not just try to bite my leg off!
Daz: Let’s move on, and Greg no need for the sour look.
Daz: Our bedroom (Cut to double bed this is decaying like the rest of the room)
Daz: This is where our magic happens, (He and Shaz dry hump each other on the bed as an enactment of what they do at night)
Daz: Anyhow here is our wardrobe. (Cuts to an endless row of Nike and Adidas products, such as caps, tops, and tracksuit bottoms)
Daz: My clothes man, got to looking fuckin' cool in public ay I?(Samples clothes)
Shaz: And here’s mine. (Her clothes consists of a wide array of looped earrings silver or gold, tracksuit bottoms, millions of hair bobbles and hair clips, make-up, fake nails, fake tan, fake eyelashes, hair extensions, as well as short cut dresses)
Shaz: I look fuckin' sexy, and I fuckin' love it.(She samples her clothes)
Daz: Now to the bathroom.
(It’s completely full of shit)
Daz: And finally Greg it’s your room! (Cribs mode ends, the camera vanishes, as Greg examines his room, small and decaying with a broken bed in the corner with springs sticking out of it as well as beers and ciggies on the floor. As well as endless piles of pot noodle cans)
Greg: Well err this is nice y’all… (He opens his wardrobe a large pile of beer can’s cascade over him a naked drunk woman also comes out, she looks around and then simply just walks out)
Greg: (getting up) So did y’all get my suitcases?
Shaz: Yeah. (She chucks the suitcases at Greg)
Daz: Don’t be such a pussy-hole Greg.
Greg: Well I'm, going to try and get some well needed sleep…
Greg: Is there a problem?
Daz: I thought you said you wanted to join the orgy.
Greg: I have jetlag.
Daz: Fine, but you’ll get used to this lifestyle eventually, tomorrow you’ll learn a few rules off this house, and this area.
Greg (Sarcastically): Oh I can’t wait.
(Daz leaves, Shaz is about to then she says…)
Shaz: Oh and Greg before tomoz, can you wipe that sour look of your face.
(Greg slumps on his bed it is very lumpy and already his back hurts)
Greg (Thinking): Oh God have Mercy on my little soul.