Black Mirror

- Hey, Mum. - I was worried. It's almost six.

I took a detour after Luss to show Pia the pretty way.

I slept through it. Hi.

Pia, Mum. Mum, Pia.

- Nice to meet you. - You too.

Janet.

- Pretty wee thing you've captured. - Mum!

Hey, I'm flattered. Thank you.

- I like your accent. - Ditto.

What was that, love?

Ditto.

Uh, "ditto."

Oh!

So, did you grow up in America? Or are you originally from--

Jesus, Mum!

US, born and bred.

Okay.

I hope you're both hungry.

- Yeah. - Starving.

Who's the pianist?

Dad was.

- Is that him? - Aye. Kenneth.

"Kenny," Mum called him.

Is it creepy if I say he looks good in that cap?

A bit. Yeah.

Tomorrow, we'll show Pia around the village,

and then we'll probably set off Monday morning.

- You're only staying two nights? - Well, we've got to head on to Rùm.

To shoot, uh, my film--

Our... our film.

Uh, about the rare egg guy.

So, that's what your documentary's about? This egg collector from Rùm?

He's not a collector. He...

he guards rare eggs against collectors who want to steal them.

It's, uh, it's a big trade.

The way I see it, this is going to be a story

about one of the last remaining holdouts against the commodification of nature.

Not about a man who watches eggs?

Well, yeah, but it--

He's like a vigilante.

A guardian angel.

Egg theft is illegal,

but the local cops aren't interested, or they're too lazy.

I mean...

Maybe if someone who looked like me were stealing the eggs--

They're probably just overstretched. Policing's a very demanding job.

As your dad knew.

- Mm. - Yeah. I mean...

Yeah.

I saw that photo of him in uniform,

and 20 minutes later, I'm shit-mouthing the cops? Like...

She hates me.

- No, she doesn't. She likes you. - She said that?

It's just, anything with Dad...

She's sensitive. She misses him.

Well, of course. I mean, you must too.

In theory.

Sort of do.

I was eight when he died,

so most of my life, he's just been a few photographs.

Mm.

He was ill quite a while before he died.

Uh, needed a lot of caring, you know.

I think that really took it out of Mum.

Whole place was a lot quieter from then on.

Seriously, are you hard right now?

I am.

That is...

...totally inappropriate.

I'm so, so sorry.

Does that thing work?

Uh, last time I checked.

No tape. Boo.

- What were you gonna film with it? - Here. Watch.

You okay? Good to go?

What's " Burgerack" ?

Bergerac. Old detective show.

Your folks were seriously into it.

That's a whole lot of Bergerac .

Uh, Mum had a crush on John Nettles.

The... the guy who played Bergerac. She used to say he had a nice bum.

I do not wanna think about your mom getting wet over some dude's butt.

Well, he did have a nice one.

You heading out?

Just taking Pia to the loch.

Might get windy. I can fill you a thermos with some tea.

- It's no bother, Mum. - Well...

Have a nice time.

- It's okay. - We should leave now.

It's like something from a painting.

That's because people paint landscapes.

I mean, this place is amazing. I can't believe it's so empty.

We're the only ones here. It's weird.

Davis McCardle.

I told you never to show your face in here again.

You can walk right back out that door now!

Hello, Stuart.

How are you doing, you fucking wank?

Hey! What the fuck is with that hair, eh? You gonna tell me your pronouns?

I just let it grow a bit. You know?

I thought you were in London, studying woke film theory,

or whatever you call it.

Someday, this guy will be polishing BAFTAs

and forgetting about us poor wee shites he used to cut about with.

Years ago, Stuart made a model for my short video.

A spaceship.

- Yeah, a Solaris tribute. - With a working engine.

You get the picture.

Said if he ended up making the next Star Wars ,

I'd help out with the special effects, but he's, uh...

he's turned his back on us old gadgies now he's down the big town, eh?

- See, he's not even introducing you to me. - Oh, sorry.

This is Pia.

- She was in my film course as well. - Oh!

- Oh, your course, was it? - No.

He thinks they're gonna name it after him someday.

Well, I thought they were gonna name it after me, so...

Yes, well, that would be the smart move, eh?

What with fucking diversity and all that.

Uh, three pints on the house. No charge.

Crisps all around?

It's a shame he's dragged you out of London up to this ghost town, eh?

All the holiday atmosphere of a hospice.

You're still in business.

Skin of the teeth, man. Look around.

We are on our arse.

I keep telling Dad if things don't pick up,

we'll just have to bite the bullet and jack it fucking in.

Speak of the cunt.

- What are you doing? - Well, I sh... I should say hello.

No, no, don't bother.

That'll be his fifth refill today.

The only reason he comes downstairs these days.

Christ.

Oh, there he goes.

Up to his pit.

Is he... is he depressed, or--

Of course he's depressed.

There used to be three pubs around here.

And now we're the last man standing. It's a...

it's a proper dead zone.

I don't get it. It's so beautiful around here. I--

How are you not overrun with tourists?

'Cause of Iain Adair.

Who is Iain Adair?

- You didn't tell her about Iain Adair? - Come on.

- It's... it's a bit-- - Who is Iain Adair?

Okay, okay, fine. So...

Iain Adair was a guy who lived up at Five Acres Farm on the hill there

with his mum and dad.

People said he was quiet, easily led, not too bright. All of that, you know?

But really, he was just some local guy.

- Anyway-- - Turned out he tortured and killed people.

I was building up to that.

I haven't got your storytelling instincts. You tell it.

- No, you spoiled it now. - No, not the end bit with your dad.

- What end bit with your dad? - Can I just start from the beginning?

Yeah, just pretend you don't know the murder stuff yet.

- Sure. - Okay.

So,

picture it.

There used to be loads of holidaymakers here.

Loads of them.

In 1997, this couple in their twenties hire a cottage for their honeymoon.

Back when we still had tourists.

Sorry.

- They were here for about a week. - Mr. Smiley.

Loads of people saw them .

Dad said they drank in here a couple of nights.

Come the end of the week, they're supposed to have left.

The cleaner comes to get their cottage ready for the next booking.

Their car's parked outside.

And all their stuff's still there.

No sign of them. Gone.

- Creepy. - Very creepy.

- So, of course, Dad gets called in. - His dad was a local policeman.

- Aye, she knows that. - Oh. Okay, sorry.

So, Dad's asking around, right? Knocking on doors.

This couple is nowhere to be found.

Vanished off the face of the earth and all that.

After a day or two, it becomes a big story.

Mm.

Tabloids pick it up.

Place is swarming with journalists. It's a frenzy.

But then weeks go by, and there's no sign of them. Nothing.

And then Princess Diana died. You know?

Papers moved onto that. Story fizzles out. Finished.

Until one day--

One night.

Mm.

Iain Adair's drinking in here.

- In here? - He drank in here all the time.

Always sat right there.

Anyway, this night,

he's had way more than usual.

People say he's talking weird.

He's making a nuisance of himself.

There's a poster of the missing couple on the wall.

He even makes comments about the girl. And your dad--

Yeah, the auld pissheid, he tells Iain he's barred.