You will never guess what she’s done this time, Erin.
Did she nick the noticeboard from the chip shop, Clare?
All S1
S1 E15Unfinished Business
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)
Why would two gunmen break into a chippy?
Ah! That really hurt.
You’re such a pussy.
What were they looking for?
Chips, obviously.
They were looking for the keys to the van. Keep up, Erin.
Do you think we should knock them about a bit?
No.
Nothing drastic. Just a few slaps.
I said no, Sarah.
What, not even the wee gay fella?
I’m not gay.
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.
(gasps)
(whispering) Push it, push it.
I’m pushing! I’m pushing it!
Hurry up!
It’s locked!
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…
It’s just not as nice.
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!
Oh, my God! Look!
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.
Miss Mallon.
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?
Really. And you know who else doesn’t think you’re a dick? Our Lord.
For feck’s sake.
How do you know Our Lord doesn’t think he’s a dick?
Our Lord doesn’t think anyone’s a dick.
I very much doubt that.
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.
Is he all right?
I wouldn’t say so, no. He’s a priest, like.
It’s class, isn’t it?
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.
Yes, we do.
No, you don’t.
We do.
Really?
Of course.
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”.
God, aye, so it does.
You don’t know a Jack McGinley, do you? Moved to Moscow, ‘88, ‘89, it would have been.
Seriously?
No.
Stocky fella.
No.
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.
Your letters, they bore.
They’re boring.
Exactly.
That’s not what I--
I can smoke here, yes?
No. No, you can’t. Mammy’s like a bloodhound.
Your ma said we could come up and have a look at the Russian.
Ukrainian.
Is this her?
Isn’t she cracker? She’s half mine.
No, she’s not, Orla.
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)
Would you stop that?
I’m very sorry for all your trouble, you know, the whole hoo-ha at the power plant.
Okay.
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.
To me, is stupid.
Oh, my God. It is stupid. It is so, so stupid.
Who is this?
Oh, that’s just James.
You are handsome.
(gasps)
And also sexy.
Is her English not great?
What’s happening?
Why would she do that? Why?
Fuck knows. He’s minging.
She seems to be really enjoying it.
Is he enjoying it?
It’s hard to tell.
Well, if he’s not enjoying it, isn’t that sort of sexual harassment?
Yeah, we should put a stop to it.
Aye.
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.
Have you any news, Da?
Not really, no.
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.
Well, I often do.
An apple turnover… and a cream horn.
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.
Cream horn, Shay said.
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.
What friend?
A new friend.
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.
What station?
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?
Yes, that’s right.
Maeve. That’s what she’s called, is she?
She is, aye.
Maeve. Maeve. Really? Maeve?
Why does your mother make that sound?
I cannot believe this.
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!
Is there not?
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)
(sighs)
You happy now?
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.
BBoth
Amen.
MMaeve
Unbelievable.
Jammie Dodger?
MMaeve
Blessed art thou, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Shh! You’ll scare Clive.
Who’s Clive?
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.
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