Why would two gunmen break into a chippy?
What were they looking for?
They were looking for the keys to the van. Keep up, Erin.
Do you think we should knock them about a bit?
Nothing drastic. Just a few slaps.
What, not even the wee gay fella?
Okay, that should do it. Ready?
I hate to be a health and safety stickler, but surely you’re not actually planning on leaving us like this, are you?
(whispering) Back door. Back door. Back door. Hurry up.
(whispering) Push it, push it.
I’m pushing! I’m pushing it!
FFionnula
What the fuck’s going on here, exactly?!
Okay… Um, all right. Well, what happened was… (pointing to Michelle) Michelle was carrying this scented candle…
Sweet suffering Jesus. It’s the morning already?! What are we gonna do?
Well maybe we could start with calming the fuck down.
Calm down? We’re still on William of Orange, Michelle! We haven’t so much looked at the famine!
We’ve got the gist. They ran out of spuds. Everyone was raging.
Well, I can’t tell my rebellions from my risings.
And whose fault’s that? If your lot had stopped invading us for five fucking minutes, there’d be a lot less to wade through! You English prick.
It’s abuse. That’s what it is. It’s abusive. Does anybody have 10p? I’m ringing Childline.
You can’t ring Childline every time your ma threatens to kill you, Erin.
Yeah, you can’t waste Esther’s time like that.
And anyway, you’re not alone We’re all gonna fail. We’re all gonna get our holes kicked, and we’re all in the same boat.
I don’t wanna be in that boat! I wanna be in a different boat, sailing down a totally different river!
Guys, all we can do is try our best.
Ach, don’t be such a fruit, James!
Doesn’t that dog look like Toto?
Oh, I suppose it does a bit, yeah.
Looks exactly like him. Here, boy! (running over to him) Come here, boy! Here, boy! Come here, boy! Here, boy! Come here! Here, boy! Here, boy!
(on the phone) Could you put me through to Sister Thomas, please? Tommy! How are you? Yeah, not too bad. A retreat? (tuts) I dunno. I have judo on Friday. Don’t like to miss it. Now, I’ll tell you why I’m ringing you. So we’ve had an alleged apparition here this morning. Well, it’s in the weeping statue category. Sure, I know. Yeah, apparently there was a smirk as well. (chuckles) I mean, I’m not sure what Our Lady of the Sorrows has to be smirking about, but that’s by the by.
Directly before the weeping, can you remember what you were doing, what you were talking about?
I remember that James was being a dick.
I don’t like to use that word, Sister, but it’s so hard to describe James any other way, ‘cause he’s just such a dick.
I don’t think you’re a dick, James.
Really. And you know who else doesn’t think you’re a dick? Our Lord.
How do you know Our Lord doesn’t think he’s a dick?
Our Lord doesn’t think anyone’s a dick.
I also have a question, pretty boy. Why are you encouraging all this?
I wouldn’t say I’m encouraging it, I’m just open to the possibility.
Well, I’m not. Not unless I see some cold, hard evidence.
And maybe it’s there. Proof at last, Peter, proof at last.
I wouldn’t say so, no. He’s a priest, like.
Hmm. It’s much how I imagine.
Oh, because of my letters? Well, descriptive narrative has always been a strong point--
No, not your letters. I see on news.
What do you mean, you’ve seen on news? You don’t have news in the Ukraine. You don’t have televisions.
Erin, stop hogging the Russian.
Yeah, come on, Erin. Give Orla a go.
She’s Ukrainian, actually.
Yeah, go on, love. Say something to Katya.
You name sounds a bit like “cat”.
You don’t know a Jack McGinley, do you? Moved to Moscow, ‘88, ‘89, it would have been.
Curly hair, bit of a lisp.
I do not know this person.
Ah, maybe just as well, love. He’s an awful prick.
So, Katya, I’ve done a bit of an itinerary for your stay. You should have received a copy in my last letter.
I don’t read your letters, Erin.
I’m sorry? I don’t follow.
No. No, you can’t. Mammy’s like a bloodhound.
Your ma said we could come up and have a look at the Russian.
Isn’t she cracker? She’s half mine.
Aye, she is. Mammy said so.
You’re so lucky, Erin. I begged my ma to let me have one, but she said we’ve no room now that my dickhead, ball-bag, English prick of a cousin’s moved in. Talking about you, James, in case you’re wondering.
Yeah, that much was clear. Thank you, Michelle.
Have you seen the one Jenny Joyce got, the fella? Massive, massive ride. I’ve been thinking. Maybe time for me to lose the rest of my virginity. And he’s definitely a contender. You help me. You put in good word with your Cossack friend. So we can… (makes squishing sounds)
I’m very sorry for all your trouble, you know, the whole hoo-ha at the power plant.
When you think about it, we’ve actually got a lot in common ‘cause we understand what it’s like to be a young person from a troubled place.
Hm, it is not the same. Chernobyl was terrible nuclear accident. You people like to fight each other, and, to be honest, no person really understands why.
Well, there’s actually a political element to it, Katya, and there’s a religious element.
But you’re not two different religions here. You’re different flavours of same religion, no?
Well, yes, but… It’s a little bit more complicated than that, Katya.
Oh, my God. It is stupid. It is so, so stupid.
Is her English not great?
Why would she do that? Why?
Fuck knows. He’s minging.
She seems to be really enjoying it.
Well, if he’s not enjoying it, isn’t that sort of sexual harassment?
Yeah, we should put a stop to it.
Does anyone want a Fruit Pastille?
And when Erin finished reading me her poetry, she showed me some old walls.
I showed you “the walls”. I showed you the city walls, and they are nothing short of spectacular.
Ach, if she’s not into walls, she’s not into walls, Erin, love.
Right. Shay Harkham was telling me you were in Duggan’s Bakery yesterday lunchtime.
Well, that’s hardly news.
Two buns he says you ordered.
An apple turnover… and a cream horn.
That’s not like you, Granda.
Sure, you couldn’t pay you to eat a cream horn.
Cream finger, it was. Apple turnover and a cream finger.
Horns, fingers. Who cares?
He swore on it. Said he saw it being bagged up.
And Big Shay has eyes like a hawk, so he does.
Shay said when you left Duggan’s, you turned up Pump Street.
Pump Street? Who do you know on Pump Street, Da?
What were you doing heading up Pump Street with a cream horn, Da?
I was visiting a friend of mine.
A male friend, was it? Aye, I thought as much. Buying cream horns for his fancy woman. Sarah, what do you think of that?
We met at the Stations of the Cross.
Jesus falls for the second time.
I could do without the details, Da.
Maeve and me, we… We just get on well, that’s all.
Maeve? That’s her name, is it?
Maeve. That’s what she’s called, is she?
Maeve. Maeve. Really? Maeve?
Why does your mother make that sound?
I think it’s a good thing, love.
Just keep out of it, you!
And that’s who you were winking at in mass?
Winking? At your age? Christ, I feel sick.
It was only a friendly wink.
There is no such thing as a friendly wink!
Our poor mother is barely cold, and you’re straight back out there, winking away.
Your mother’s been dead ten years, Mary.
Look, I’ll not tell you again!
I’m sorry. I seem to have lost my appetite. (she leaves)
Can you believe him? Flaunting it in our faces like this.
I don’t even know the man anymore.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.
MMaeve
Blessed art thou, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Clive. Clive is a wee Prod from East Belfast. Clive came back from Ibiza, got on the wrong bus at Aldergrove Airport, then fell asleep. Clive woke up in Derry, surrounded by Russians and Fenians. Clive is absolutely shitting himself.
So where's the real Artem?
Giant’s Causeway, probably. Foreigners fucking love the Giant’s Causeway.
Okay, I’m going in. (Deirdre Mallon knocks at the door) For the love of God, don’t come in here!
DMDeirdre Mallon
Everything all right, Mary?
Stay back, Deirdre. This is the death trap.
DMDeirdre Mallon
Listen, Mary, I hate to do this to you, but me and Martin are both working nights, and I’m nervous about leaving these two on their own, what with the day that’s in it. I don’t suppose there’s any chance you could take them with you?
Ach, away, Deirdre, it’s just--
DMDeirdre Mallon
The English thing? Listen, Mary, I understand. I mean, he’s my nephew, and even I find it hard to get past. If I’m totally honest, there’s times when I look at him and I feel… Well… it’s pure hatred. I’ll not dress it up.
No, no, it’s not the English thing.
DMDeirdre Mallon
I hope to God it’s not the gay thing you’re offended by.
DMDeirdre Mallon
Because I’d be disappointed in you, Mary. I’ll not lie.
Of course not. I mean, if anything, the gay thing sort of cancels out the English thing.
You wouldn’t move over there, James? I can’t see past your massive closet.
I’m just not sure we’ll have room in the caravan.
It’ll be grand. Us men can camp outside.
Run and ask Jim across the road for the lend of his tent.
DMDeirdre Mallon
Well, thanks a million, Mary. I owe you one. You know, if you want our Ryan to sort that gable wall of yours out, you’ve only to ask.
What’s wrong with our gable wall?
JJim
Now, once your tent is erect, you’ll want to think about where to safely store your food, because believe me, girls, you do not want to attract predatory animals into your sleeping area. Bears are particularly vicious.
Yeah, I’m not sure how many bears there are in Portnoo, though, Jim.
But there was a cheetah on the beach one time.
That was a greyhound, Orla.
I hope your father appreciates the fact that I was the one who got us out of that mess.
He won’t. Nobody back there actually believed you were a Japanese tourist, Gerry. They all thought you were a nutcase. They took pity on you. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Dear God, no.
I can see your purse right there.
No, no, that’s my sterling purse. I’m talking about my punt purse. I can’t find my punt purse, Gerry. Blessed Saint Anthony, the grace of God has made you the patron saint of all things lost and stolen. I turn to you this day with childlike love and deep confidence--
Calm down, Gerry? We have no punts! We can’t go to the Free State without punts. We’re puntless. We haven’t a punt between us. Oh, God, I think… I think I’m having a panic attack. Oh, stupid punts.
Over this? So what happened back there was totally fine, but this is worth having a panic attack about?
There is more chance of me eloping with your father to a flip-flop shop in Hawaii--
Look, okay, fine! But that means we won’t be able to buy anything, which means we’ll have no food, which means we’ll all starve to death. So, you know, on your head be it, Gerry. Oh, actually, do you know what? I think I put it in the suitcase.
False alarm there, Saint Anthony. Sorry for troubling you.
