♪ I feel it in my fingers ♪
♪ I feel it in my toes ♪
[vocalizing]
♪ Love is all around me ♪
♪ And so the feeling grows ♪
[vocalizing]
♪ It's written in the wind ♪
♪ It's everywhere I go ♪
Sweet Jesus.
[vocalizing]
♪ So if you really love me ♪
♪ Come on and let it show ♪
Did I not ban this one?
Let me see.
Uh...
"Endless Love," "The Power of Love," "All You Need Is Love,"
"How Deep Is Your Love," "It Must Have Been Love,"
"I Wanna Know What Love Is," "I Will Always Love You."
No, Sister, you didn't.
♪ 'Cause on my love you can depend ♪
[hits note off-key]
Put it on the list.
Uh, wonderful, girls. Lovely stuff.
Before I dismiss you for the weekend, a few announcements.
On Monday morning, several of our year thirteens
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.
Let me see. What else?
Come on, come on, come on to fuck!
"Notice from Mr. Macaulay.
This year's destination for the Euro Trotters trip
will be, dramatic pause--"
Did you actually want me to do the dramatic pause?
Interesting.
-Paris. It's going to be Paris. -[gasps]
If you need any further information, there is a stall in the foyer.
Sadly, I am unable to come on this one, as I despise the French.
[up-tempo song plays]
Name of the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit.
-[man sings in French] -[school bell ringing]
There's so much I want to do. The Champs-Élysées,
the Arc de Triomphe, the Louvre.
A French fella. That's what I want to do.
Nation of rides. My fanny's going funny just thinking about it.
-Could you not use that word, Michelle? -What, "fanny"?
-Why do you always have to be coarse? -Ach, what's the big deal?
-We all have one. -I don't.
-You are one. -Of course, Beckett lived in Paris,
and if anybody's influenced my writing, it is--
-What, Brenda Beckett from 12A? -No!
Not Brenda Beckett. "Beckett" Beckett.
If we go to Paris, I'd like to meet Nicole.
-Who's Nicole? -[Erin] For God's sake.
How many times? It's just an ad. She's not a real person.
Neither is Papa.
Be good conversation practice as well, you know, for the orals.
-Which will be the only oral that you-- -Yeah, okay, Michelle.
-You didn't let me finish. -Well, I sensed where you were going.
-Blowjobs. -Oh, God.
Don't tell me Charlene Kavanagh is going.
She is dying about herself.
"Oh, I'm so good-looking. Oh, I'm so popular."
If there ever was a more shallow,
self-absorbed, generally unpleasant human being--
Hi, Erin.
Hi.
Good. Grand. Not too bad.
Can't complain.
Is the answer I'd have given if you'd asked how I was.
Right. Are you signing up for Paris?
I can't convince that lot to come.
Looks like I'm going to need someone to hang out with.
It would be an honor.
Okay, well, I'll see you later, then.
You will, Charlene. Indeed you will.
Did you hear that?
The Charlene Kavanagh wants to hang around with little old me!
You know what I admire most about you, Erin? Your unshakeable principles.
[French music plays]
Bonjour. Tout le monde. Comment allez-vous?
-Wise up, Jenny. -Where do we sign?
Hold on. Stall the fucking ball.
375 quid? Are you for real?
What? £375 each?
-Isn't there some sort of group discount? -It's not Club 18 to 30.
-More's the pity. -It is a bit steep, Jenny.
Just dip into your trust fund. I do it all the time.
Our what?
It's like an account your parents set up for you to help pay for things,
like university, your first car, educational trips.
I did not know about this.
-Did you know about this? -No, did I fuck.
Trust fund, you say?
Interesting.
Dip into your trust fund? Of course, no bother at all.
Pass us then the phone. I just need to ring the bank.
7-6-5-4-3-2-1. That's the account number and the password.
What is it again? What was it now?
Oh, aye. Catch yourself on!
Da, for God's sake, will you turn that down?
I have turned it down. It's at zero.
...opportunity there.
I don't know how he does it.
You telling me I don't have a trust fund?
There you go. You're not as slow as you look.
Do I have a trust fund, Mary?
Listen, girls, there are no trust funds. There are no funds, period.
For God's sake!
Okay. That's one portion of red fish, one portion of white fish,
-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 is trying to starve us all, Mary.
Okay, four bags of chips, then.
And I want 12 chicken nuggets, a small battered hot dog,
-plenty of onions, plenty of-- -[Erin] Get a move on, Daddy.
At that chippy, it's every man for himself on a Friday night.
I am trying to concentrate here, Erin.
-All right, Mammy? -All right, love.
Did you ask about the trust fund?
Uh, I don't have one.
I take it that means I don't have one.
For the love of God.
-Will four bags be enough? -More than enough.
I say we need five, to be safe. Do you not think, Da?
-Stick down five. -[sighs]
-Five bags of chips, then! -I'll have a chicken fillet burger.
No lettuce, no tomato, no cheese.
-I'll just write "plain," will I? -No onions, no cucumber.
-One plain-- -No relish, no pickles, no mayonnaise.
-No chicken. -What do you mean, no chicken?
-[phone ringing] -Get that.
[sighs]
It's a chicken burger, of course I want chicken!
-What are you, a simpleton? -[Erin] Hello?
No chicken.
It's Uncle Colm.
Well, I'm not taking it. I've been stung once already this week,
and I'm 45 minutes talking about his new shoelaces.
I've stopped answering my phone altogether for fear it's him, Mary.
-Will you take it, Da? -No chance, love.
I mean, I know I shouldn't say this about my own brother, but by Christ
-he's a boring bastard. -Is somebody going to take it or not?
-Don't be cheeky. -Less of the cheek, you.
How's it going, Colm?
Would you ever think of going cordless?
Aye, it was freezing cold earlier, that's true.
Gemma Sharkey went cordless and she's like a new woman now, Gerry.
-No, it's not as cold now. -She can make a call from her living room,
from her kitchen, from her bedroom...
Right, look, Colm, I don't have long. We're sending to the chippy here.
And the other night, right, and this is no word of a lie, she rang me from the bath.
These cordless phones are the future.
-What? Oh, my God! -What's up?
Our Colm's in the police station.
Last night, two gunmen forced their way into his house,
tied him up, stole his van.
Dirty bastards.
Oh, God, love you, you poor critter.
You're to come straight round here, hear me?
Oh, of course. Of course.
Is he all right?
He is traumatized, Gerry.
He'll take a steak and kidney pie.
Do you think five bags will be enough?
["Push It" by Salt-N-Pepa plays]
♪ Ah, push it ♪
Seven bags of chips,
12 chicken nuggets, one small battered hot dog,
-one plain chicken burger... -Give me that. Me.
Thank you, Fionnula.
-All right? Any joy with the trust fund? -Nah.
According to my ma, we're actually quite poor.
Aye, I think we might be as well.
-What's yours? -[Clare] Uh...
Can I p-please get one--one fish supper and one cowboy special,
-please, Fionnula, thank you, please? -It'll be ready when it's ready.
Well, Jenny Joyce was talking through her fat hole about this trust fund thing.
-[Fionnula] What's yours? -Don't rush me, Fionnula.
Where the fuck are we going to get the money for Paris now?
We could sell our organs.
We could. We could sell our organs.
Or, and forgive me if this is a bit left field,
but could we not, you know, get jobs?
There are no jobs in Derry.
-That's all you hear anybody say. -So what are these?
I never really looked at this before. I assumed they were all dead cat posters.
-Missing cat posters. -If you're an optimist.
I'm not sure if I'd be suited to any of these. They're all very practical,
and I'm just more... creative.
You're more of a slabber.
Fuck's sake.
I think other people are onto this thing, girls.
-Oi! I'll not ask you again. -A large cowboy, Fionnula.
-And don't be shy with the salt now. -What about the wee limey?
Well, dicko?
I'm okay, thanks.
-What? -I don't really want anything.
You don't want anything?
How could you not want anything? It's lovely.
-I don't really fancy it, that's all. -I don't understand.
-Are you not feeling well, James? -I don't like it, okay?
It's too greasy! It's much, much too greasy!
Even the smell of it makes me feel physically sick.
I'm sorry that you had to hear that, Fionnula.
You're a fucking embarrassment.
Get him out of here.
[Michelle] You heard the woman.
♪ Ah, push it ♪
♪ Push it real good ♪
[Colm] There was a knock at the door.
This must have been...
ah, 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 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're armed."
Crass.
And that's when the smaller fella,
although, as I say, we're talking an inch...
-[whispers] Mammy, make it stop. -...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 seven on the old timer,
or you'd be roasted here."
Did you go for the economy seven in the end, Colm?
I thought you says the hot water settings were a minefield.
For the love of God, Sarah, no diversions, please.
Aye, come on, let's pack 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-- -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 longue and all sorts.
By Jesus, they were absolutely desperate to borrow the 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.
Or diabolique, as they say in France.
Or, "You're still not going to Paris," as they say in Derry.
Ach, well, I'm delighted for you, Colm.
-What? -Well, I just mean that,
well, before he had nothing really going for him,
but now, well, now he is somebody.
Now he's the fella that got tied to his own radiator.
-Thanks, Sarah. -[Sarah] We should ring UTV,
get them to do an interview.
When Shauna Sharkey was interviewed--
do you mind the time where her and her brother got hijacked?
Well, Fionnula gave her free chips for a month.
-You're joking. -Honest to God.
-[doorbell rings] -I'll go.
You will never guess what she's done this time, Erin.
Did she nick the noticeboard from the chip shop, Clare?
♪ You're unbelievable ♪
Fionnula was out the back, cashing up.
I sneaked in, yanked it off the wall and away I went.
I was like a thief in the night.
[scoffing]
You were "like" a thief in the night?
You actually were a thief in the night,
and you stole from Fionnula, of all people.
Fionnula!
I once saw her punch a Rottweiler, Michelle.
If she finds out about this, she'll kill you.
Kill us. You're an accessory after the fact now,
-my friend. -God!
Can I ask why you stole the noticeboard?
So we get first dibs on all the jobs.
[James] Wouldn't it have been easier to just remove the notices?
They're only Blu Tacked on.
Fuck off, dickweed.
[Erin] Christ, what possessed you, Michelle?
Yeah, the more I talk about it and the more I sober up...
-the less sure I am, really. -[Clare] You were drunk?
[Erin] Brilliant!
Fuck. We're not like Jenny Joyce.
Nobody is just going to hand us things.
But that doesn't mean we shouldn't have things.
Come on, Clare.
[French music plays]
I know how much you've dreamed of seeing the Arc de...
whatever the fuck it's called.
James...
I know how much you want to practice the shit out of the past participle.
Orla...
you really, really buzz off those Renault Clio ads.
And you, Erin.
Well... you're just riding Charlene Kavanagh.
I'm not riding her.
I just think it might be time I moved on, friendship-wise.
You are aware you're talking to your current friends?
We can't give up on Paris.
Let's do this, girls. Let's just make it happen.
God, I've never seen you so fired up.
I will buck a French lad, Erin.
I will buck a French lad, so help me God.
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.
[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. -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.
["Little Green Bag" by George baker Selection plays]
Let's go to work.
♪ Yeah ♪
♪ Looking back on the track For a little green bag ♪
♪ I got to find just the kind Or losing my mind ♪
♪ Out of sight in the night Out of sight in the day... ♪
You thieving wee fuckers!
-[Michelle] How did you find out? -Doesn't matter how she found out.
That's not what's important, what's important is that we are all deeply--
-Her mother rang me. -You told your ma?
Okay, I cracked.
I couldn't handle it, and I cracked.
-For fuck's sake, Clare. -Enough!
Where do we go from here?
Mary, look, you're family.
Well, you're good people.
Well, you're decent people.
But I have to set an example.
No. Dear God, no.
You're not talking about a ban.
[whispers] Yes.
Let's call it a suspension. I'm sorry, Mary.
Ach, Fionnula. What about you? I thought I could smell vinegar.
I'm just on my way to meet our Colm here. I'm a nervous wreck.
We're doing this interview, you see, for UTV.
-I'm going to be on UTV, Fionnula. -Save your breath, Sarah.
There'll be no free chips.
There'll be no chips, full stop.
Excuse me?
What do you expect me to do on a Friday, Fionnula? Cook?
-You expect me to cook? -You could order a pizza.
-Pizza is not as nice. -[Mary] No.
You are right, Orla. Pizza is not as nice.
Maybe you should have all thought about that.
Is there nothing we can do?
["Little Green Bag" resumes]
So, not only are we not going to Paris,
we're spending our Sunday scrubbing Fionnula's fucking fish hole for free.
Aye, and she'll be back from Eucharist soon, so get a shift on.
It's slave labor, Erin.
It's worse than slave labor. We're not even getting paid.
Look, Mammy had to cut some sort of deal.
Would living without fried food really be so bad?
[all] Yes!
She wouldn't actually have banned us. She was bluffing.
She's not bluffing, Michelle.
-Didn't she ban the McGuigan twins? -Seriously?
Sure. That's why they lost all the weight.
Right, girls. No dicking about.
["All Right" by Supergrass plays]
We need to leave this place fucking spotless.
♪ We are young ♪
♪ We run green ♪
♪ Keep our teeth nice and clean ♪
♪ See our friends See the sights ♪
♪ Feel all right ♪
♪ We wake up, we go out ♪
♪ Smoke a fag, put it out ♪
♪ See our friends See the sights ♪
♪ Feel all right ♪
♪ Are we like you? ♪
♪ I can't be sure ♪
♪ Of the scene As she turns ♪
♪ We are strange ♪
Fuck this.
-[sprays] -It's still sticky.
How?
How is it still sticky?
Is it worse than when we started?
I think it might be, yeah.
-Great. -[James] Oh, I see.
Yeah. This isn't Windolene.
This is...
This is mayonnaise.
Great work, folks.
Absolutely brilliant.
Well done, everyone.
It's been a productive morning.
Fionnula will be absolutely thrilled.
[muffled dance music blaring]
All right?
-[turns music off] -Boo!
-Where did you get all this? -[Michelle] 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, didn't stop you pulling them over your hole.
Wait for it.
-Michelle! -Don't be a shower of bore bags.
Sláinte, motherfuckers.
-No, no, no, no! -Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
[gasps]
[flames roaring]
Are you throwing alcohol on it? Are you actually throwing alcohol on it?
And what in the name of God are you doing, seasoning it?
-Wow. -[Clare coughs]
On a scale of one to ten, how dead do you think we are?
[Colm, on TV] The taller fella. Well, it was one of the two.
Anyway, he says to me, says he...
-It's the truth, Mammy. -Erin, if you expect me to believe
that Michelle tripped while carrying a scented candle,
you must think I came up the Foyle in a bubble.
[Sarah on TV] My uncle still finds it all quite difficult
-to talk about. -It's my bit! It's my bit!
-What are we going to do? -Oh, for God's sake, Mary, would you look?
You're missing my big moment.
Two gunmen of roughly the same height
kicked his door down and tied him to the radiator
with his own shoelaces.
He'd barely had those shoelaces a week, John.
They threatened him with physical violence.
They threatened to burn his house down before manhandling...
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, are you?
-[door slams] -[footsteps]
[whispers] Back door. Back door. Back door.
Hurry up.
[man sings in French]
[gasping]
-[door rattles] -[Mary whispering] Push it, push it.
-[Sarah] I'm pushing! I'm pushing it! -[Mary] Hurry up!
[Sarah] It's locked!
What the fuck's going on here, exactly?
Okay...
um, all right.
Well, what happened was...
Michelle was carrying this scented candle...
["Never Gonna Get It" by En Vogue plays]
It's just not as nice.
♪ No, you're never gonna get it ♪
-♪ Ow! ♪ -♪ Never, ever gonna get it ♪
-♪ No, not this time ♪ -♪ No, you're never gonna get it ♪
-♪ My love ♪ -♪ Never, ever gonna get it ♪
♪ No, you're never gonna get it ♪ -♪ Ow! ♪
-♪ Never, ever gonna get it ♪ -♪ Not this time ♪
-♪ No, you're never gonna get it ♪ -♪ My love ♪
♪ Never, ever gonna get it ♪
♪ Ooh bop ♪