Criminal Minds · Season 1, Episode 15
“Unfinished Business” · Season 1, Episode 15
In this episode: Dean Winchester (940), Damon Salvatore (715), Sam Winchester (665), Olivia Benson (637), Stephen Fry (608), Narrator (554), Clark Kent (523), Nate (486)
Who owns the fella?
Me. Well, come on, then, ball-ache. Are you introducing yourself, or what?
Hi. I’m Michelle’s cousin, James.
Why’s he making that funny noise?
He’s English, Orla. That’s the way they talk. He’s my Auntie Kathy’s wean. I told you about my Auntie Kathy. She went to England years ago to have an abortion. Never came back. Never got the abortion, either. Lucky for you, James, eh? Ha!
I didn’t actually know that.
What’s going on?
I don’t know. But do you think if I told him I had an incendiary device down my knickers, he’d have a look?
Michelle, he’s a soldier.
Ach, some of them are rides. I’m willing to admit it, even if nobody else will, because I’m a beacon of truth, Erin.
You’re a mouth, that’s what you are.
Please, Michelle.
No. I have no interest in David Donnelly’s spazzmo band. (eating Quavers)
They look nice.
I can’t go on my own.
Are they nice?
Bring Bobby Sands.
Sure, how could I go? I’m so weak I can barely walk.
What about Orla?
Orla’s…
I love my wee fingers.
Orla’s mental. Come on, Michelle. I’m begging you. It’s my big chance with David. I’d do it for you.
Fine! But we both know you’re gonna just sit in the corner like a frigid fuck.
I’m not frigid.
You’ve never even kissed a boy before. You practice on your pillow sometimes, but you don’t think that’s the same.
The reading of the diary was bad enough. I could do without the quoting it from memory.
Michelle, would you mind showing me where the toilet is?
You are really starting to do my head in, do you know that?
Will the following pupils please report to Sister Michael’s office immediately? Erin Quinn, Orla McCool, Clare Devlin, Michelle Mallon, and the wee English fella. Thank you.
I wonder what that could be about.
Erin, what in God’s name?
Did you kill that wee nun, girls?
Of course we didn’t!
Then why were you pissing on her dead body and making sandwiches?
Say nothing, girls. Say nothing till we’ve seen a lawyer.
Sorry I’m late, Sister. Couldn’t get over the bridge. This bloody bomb. I begged the Brits to let me take my chances, but the awkward bastards made me go the long way.
Sorry to keep you waiting, Sister. How long does it take to defuse a fecking bomb? Sure the wee robots do all the work. Oh, killing nuns now, is it?
I didn’t, Daddy!
You wait until your mother hears about this.
Obviously, Sister Declan’s death was extremely shocking and unexpected. We’re still struggling to understand exactly what happened.
Yeah? Can I just ask, what age was Sister Declan?
She’d have been 98 on Friday.
Right. Might that shed some light on the situation?
How so?
Does anybody else have any thoughts on the whole “her being almost 98 years of age” thing?
Struck down in her prime.
On Monday morning, several of our Year 13s will face their GCSE maths resit. Now, I know how daunting resit examinations can be, so if anyone is feeling anxious or worried, or even if you just want to chat, please, please, do not come crying to me.
Okay, that is one portion of redfish, one portion of whitefish, two bags of chips –
No, no, no! Two bags won’t be enough.
Two’s plenty, Joe.
Four! Four should cover it.
Three, then. We’ll compromise.
I’ll compromise you through that window.
That’s enough, Da.
The tight bastard’s trying to starve us all, Mary!
Any luck with the trust fund?
No. According to my mam, we’re actually quite poor.
Aye, I think we might be as well.
There was a knock at the door, this must have been, ach, we’re talking eight, half eight, for I was halfway through me dinner. And up I got to open it, and there they both were, large as life. And the taller fella, though, to be fair, there was no more than an inch in it.
Jesus wept.
The slightly taller fella, he says to me, says he, “Do you know who we are?”
How’s a body supposed to enjoy his dinner?
And I says to him, says I, “Well, I can’t be sure now, but maybe if you took off the balaclavas.” And then he says to me, the slightly taller fella does, he says, “Step aside. We are armed.”
Class.
And that’s when the smaller fella, although, as I say, we are talking an inch…
Mammy, make it stop.
…an inch and a half at most.
I need a drink.
He has the bright idea of tying me to the radiator, you see. And I remember saying to myself, says I, “Colm, it’s a good job you have the Economy 7 on the old timer, or you’d be roasted here.”
Did you go for the Economy 7 in the end, Colm? I thought you said the hot water settings were a minefield?
For the love of God, Sarah, no diversions, please.
Aye, come on, let’s pick it up. They tied you to the heater.
They did indeed. And there I am, shackled to the thermostatic valve with me new shoelaces, when one of them, the smaller fella, or, hang on, maybe it was the--
It doesn’t matter, Colm.
Well, it was one of the two. He’s looking for the keys to the van, all ranting and raving and getting himself all worked up, threatening to set fire to my good chaise lounge and all sorts. By Jesus, they were absolutely desperate to borrow thon van.
Colm, they didn’t borrow your van. They stole your van, used it to move arms across the border, and then they blew it up.
Aye. Nightmare altogether.
You will never guess what she’s done this time, Erin.
Did she nick the noticeboard from the chip shop, Clare?
So, firstly we have the tutoring. And out of everyone, I thought you might be best suited to that, Clare, because--
I’m the brightest.
Well, in that conventional sort of way, I suppose. There’s also some babysitting. The child will be in bed, so you should just about be able to manage that, Michelle.
Oh, thanks. And you should just about be able to manage this.
Always the lady. There’s also some gardening, mowing a lawn, et cetera. This will require a bit of muscle, so… you should take that one, Orla.
No, I should do that one. It’s a man’s job, Erin. I’m a man.
That’s debatable.
Well, I’m more of a man than Orla.
I do not accept that.
Come on, Erin.
Fine. So that leaves dog-walking and washing a car.
Is it a Renault Clio?
No.
I’ll take the dogs.
Okay.
Let’s go to work.
It’s slave labor, Erin!
It’s worse than slave labor. We’re not even getting paid!
All right?
Boo!
Where’d you get all this?
Fionnula’s cupboard. I think she might have a bit of a problem.
You think Fionnula might have a bit of a problem? Put it away and get back downstairs, now.
Sit yourselves down. Have a wee drink.
No, Michelle. It’s wrong.
So are those ski pants, Clare, but that didn’t stop you pulling them over your hole this morning. Wait for it. (She starts lighting the alcohol as a flaming shots)
Michelle!
Don’t be such a shower of bore bags. (She carries the flaming shots) Sláinte, motherfuckers.
No, no, no, no!
Fuck, fuck, fuck! (She accidentally drops the flaming shots on the floor which makes the fire spreads on the floor to the curtains)
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