Geordie Shore 〈RELIABLE〉

I’M THAT MORTIFIED, LADS. I’VE GOT GLITTER IN PLACES GLITTER SHOULD NEVER BE. I’M LIKE A HUMAN FABERGE EGG.

The Stairs.

(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. Geordie Shore

A low, guttural GROAN.

all scream in unison. The iconic synth bassline kicks in. I’M THAT MORTIFIED, LADS

pours vodka on her bacon sandwich and eats it. I’M THAT MORTIFIED

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.