Sunday, May 14, 2017

Punch and Moody

Season 21, Episode 71
First aired 9 May 2017

We open in the street outside the pub, where Áine is hiding behind Tadhg, assuming that Jason has just wandered up to punch her after last episode’s attempted murder of Jay. It seems he’s forgiven her, though, as he brightly asks her why she isn’t at school. Hasn’t he noticed that Áine hasn’t been to school since Christmas? Tadhg explains that they kept her home today because she’s upset that he’s moving away. This seems like a questionable reason to keep a child home from school, but OK. Jason assures her that she’ll be able to visit him any time she wants, what with her unlimited international travel budget and the fact that Ros na Rún is a Ryanair hub, but she whines that he won’t be able to attend her games anymore, and even worse, Pádraig is a terrible waiter who doesn’t know how to put syrup on her ice cream. I knew if we waited patiently this would turn out to be Pádraig’s fault somehow. Tadhg passive-aggressively explains to her that Jason probably knows what’s best for his family, and that everyone has to make their own decisions about their lives, even complete bozos like him and Katy, but Áine whines some more. I had no idea she and Jason were so close, given that we’ve only seen them in the same scene two times this season, one of which he was yelling at her for killing Mack’s baby. All of a sudden Áine decides she’s done caring about Jason and is now only interested in getting a croissant from the café, so she and Tadhg wander away, leaving Jason standing there looking confused, because before this moment he’s not sure he could’ve even picked Áine out of a police lineup of 12 little girls, some of whom were different races.

At Gaudi, Gráinne is trying to get Mo to kiss and tell about last night’s date with Officer Tony, but Mo is evasive, or coy, or annoyed, or constipated. Men seem to elicit complex and hard-to-understand feelings in our Mo. Mack stops by to try out his new police-themed comedy routine on her, and it’s a cute moment between the two of them, but then we discover that she’s actually very anxious for Tony to call her for some reason. I suppose it’s either because she’s dying to know whether he wants to see her again, or if he’s noticed yet that she stole his Taser to use on Peatsaí when she just can’t listen to his nonsense anymore.

At the B&B, Máire leads Eric into the kitchen, because he’s come to have a word with Laoise. Hopefully that word is “threesome.” Sensing something’s going on that is none of her business, Máire stands between them doing nothing for a very long time, until Laoise finally tells her to bugger off, because an image of Jesus appeared in a piece of toast at the café or something. She leaves, and it seems Eric has stopped by to try to talk Laoise into going out with him again, but she’s adamant that she just doesn’t feel right about it because of her friendship with O’Shea. If they keep insisting on showing us that O’Shea has feelings and a personal life beneath her grim policebot exterior, I may have to start calling her to Imelda, and I don’t think any of us want that. He insists that there’s nothing wrong with two friends going out for a meal, or some moderately aggressive bondage, and besides, he says, he and O’Shea are over. OVER! She reluctantly agrees, so he asks her to meet him at the pub at 7, but she suggests they meet at the B&B instead, presumably because Tadhg and Frances are fed up with her shagging gentlemen on the bar all the time. He flirtatiously tells her to have a small lunch, because the restaurant he’s taking her to is brilliant. Yes, Nando’s has free refills on soft drinks and everything!

Back at Gaudi, Fia and Adam are sitting at the bar looking at holiday brochures. She’s cooing over the kiddie pools and waterslides at family-friendly resorts such as No Overnight Parking Villa in Rosslare, whereas he’s very interested in the lube fountains and complimentary harnesses at Michael Fassbender’s WillyWorld in Mykonos. Gráinne drops by and asks if they’re going on a holiday, and Fia insists that they are, but Adam more cautiously says they’re thinking about it. We’ll add holidaymaking to the list of topics he’s having confusing feelings about right now. Pádraig arrives, and he and Adam exchange uncomfortable glances, as usual. The topic turns to how scary Jay’s near-death experience yesterday was, so Pádraig bugs out his eyes and says meaningfully in Adam’s direction, “Looking after a child is a big responsibility.” Yes, especially when you’d rather be dancing shirtless on a box at The George. Pádraig picks up the brochure and sniffs at the descriptions of the nightly puppet shows and coloring contests, and then is like, “I wouldn’t like a family resort myself, but to each his own, RIGHT, ADAM?” Having thrown all the shade he is capable of right now, he wanders off, leaving Adam shooting daggers at him as he sashays away. But they didn’t even let Fia get to the part in the brochure about how the kiddie pool is 98% pinworm-free now!

At Katy and Jason’s, she’s sitting on the sofa staring into space and frowning while Jason and her parents run around packing like maniacs. She’s in a mood, which will come as a surprise to absolutely no one, and starts yelling because they’re packing too much of their junk and also because they haven’t found a way to pack silently and, preferably, in some other house where she doesn’t have to be inconvenienced by looking at it. We get that Katy is having serious cold feet about this Tenerife idea, but at this point we are solid Team Dee and wish Katy could be deported immediately. John Joe suggests that they have a wee get-together tonight, so everyone can say goodbye, and so Dee can see with her own eyes that her annoying sister is actually going away, but of course Katy whinges and bitches and then passive-aggressively hisses, “Do what you like, I don’t care” as she stomps out of the room. Are we sure there’s not a flight to Tenerife leaving sooner, such as right this minute?

Eric and O’Shea have a conversation out in the street beside a giant plastic ice cream cone in which he reveals that his landlady is selling the house and therefore he needs to find a new place to live. He says, “It’s difficult to find temporary accommodation around here,” which is another one of those sentences no one has ever said outside a foreign-language textbook, but the sentiment is understandable given that as far as we know there are only about 6 houses in the entire village. It’s especially difficult if you don’t like Hideous Puce, the official wall color of Ros na Rún. O’Shea remembers that she’s got a spare room she’d forgotten about until she decided she wanted to get back into Eric’s trousers, but he’s unsure, and says he’ll think about it and get back to her. He wants to check the reviews on TripAdvisor, I’m sure.

At the shop, there’s a long queue at the register, and Caitríona is at the head of the line, banging on to everyone about a writers’ conference she’s going to in Dublin, and what a burden it is to be as important and famous as she is. Poor Mo and Micheál, in line behind her, look like they would be much more interested in hearing about this if she would get the feck out of their way, and even more interested in not hearing about it at all, because, you know, it’s Caitríona. Fortunately for us all, she remembers dramatically that she’s forgotten to get coffee, so she heads over to the coffee and detergent aisle to fetch it, and probably bore it with a story about the time she was escorted out of Hodges Figgis for trying to autograph books she did not actually write. Mo’s excited when her phone rings, but is disappointed when it turns out to be Bloody Peatsaí instead of Sextastic Tony. She rolls her eyes and tells Peatsaí that she put whatever stupid thing he can’t find in the hot press last night, and because hot presses are a thing we do not have in America and therefore I don’t know what she’s talking about, I am going to imagine it’s like a panini maker, and she’s pressed his mesh G-string into it because she’s tired of having to see him wearing it around the house.

Sad, confused Adam is drinking alone on a set we have never seen before, but which appears to be the world’s saddest student bar, or possibly the inside of a Shakespearean half-timbered pirate ship. We then cut to the café, where Laoise asks Caitríona if she can schedule a facial for later today, but Caitríona acts peevish and annoyed because she is far too busy and important to be bothered with questions about the business she is always trying to attract customers to because it’s constantly on the brink of bankruptcy. She smirks that Laoise must have a hot date, and Laoise replies that she’d be waiting a long time for a hot date around here. Come now, Laoise, there are tons of single men ripe for the picking: Pádraig, Adam … err, never mind.

Pádraig has arrived at the Tudor pirate ship, ostensibly having borrowed some glasses, and now I really have no idea where the hell this place is supposed to be, but can understand why Adam accuses him of being a stalker. Pádraig takes offense at this, and likes it even less when Adam calls him a piteog, a word that sadly neither Rosetta Stone nor Búntus Cainte taught me, but which the subtitles translate for us as “gayboy.” They argue for a bit about who is tired of whose attitude, and who is a complete closet case, and who is the cutest member of Westlife, and finally Pádraig, in one of his best lines in a while, hisses that at least he’s honest with everyone about who he is “instead of hiding behind a woman and a baby.” Adam tries to goad him into a fight, smugly confident that fighting is not something that homos like Pádraig do, so without a word Pádraig sends him crumpling to the floor with a single punch to the face, much to everyone’s pleasant surprise. Well, maybe “pleasant” is not the best word to describe Adam’s surprise, but the important thing is that he’s on floor with blood pouring out of his nose looking up in shock.

After the break, during which some quick Googling informs us that the plural of piteog is apparently piteoga, it seems that getting punched in the face is exactly what Adam needed, because he is like a different person now. We’re not sure whether it was the shock he needed to jolt him back to reality or whether Pádraig caused some kind of personality-altering brain injury, but either way, we are in favor of it. He admits that Pádraig sure knows how to throw a punch, which Pádraig admits has surprised him as much as anyone, and Adam looks sheepish, but also kind of relieved.

Back at Gaudi, Mo is still trying to get hold of Tony by phone, and then Mack and Gráinne drop by for some more “Mo and Tony sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G”-type nonsense. Apparently the thought of Mo having a boyfriend is the most hilarious thing that has flickered through Mack’s brain in a while. At another table, there’s some more of the tepid, never-ending love triangle, which consists of Laoise saying she thinks O’Shea inviting Eric to move in with her is a bad idea, because it will make it a lot more difficult for Laoise and Eric to have secret kitchen-table sex if the kitchen table in question is O’Shea’s, and she is sitting at it at the time.

Back at the pirate ship, Pádraig brings Adam a cup of tea and apologizes for hitting him so hard, but Adam admits that he deserved it. Finally, something we can all agree on. Pádraig assures him that he’ll have peace of mind as soon as he admits to himself that he’s gay, but Adam is afraid he’ll never be able to admit that. He probably doesn’t realize that this is some huge progress he’s made right here, in that he’s admitted that there’s something to admit rather than lashing out at Pádraig about how he’s wrong and a sex predator and, besides, Adam doesn’t even know who Judy Garland is. He admits that he was jealous a few weeks ago when Pádraig was showing Fia photos of his date, which is a really heartbreaking moment but one that rings so absolutely true, and that everybody who’s still in the closet has experienced: why can’t I have that? Why can’t I be that brave? Pádraig reminds him that we all only go around once, and that it’s not right for Adam to deprive himself of the genuine, whole life he deserves, but he says he’s denied himself this long, so maybe he can just keep it up. Oh, Adam. It’s a lovely-sad-gorgeous scene, and they are both really very good, and then they decide it’s time to go, though they’re going to have to find a way to explain Adam’s bloody nose to Fia when they get home. Well, as long as they don’t concoct come ridiculous nonsense story, I’m sure they’ll be fine.

At the pub, it seems that poor Mo has been propping up the bar for some time, and you can tell things are bleak because she is actually trying to have a human-type conversation with Tadhg. She’s about to give up and head home when Tony finally arrives, explaining that he’s been away on the planet Krypton where there’s no cell reception all day, and that he just now got all her messages. He offers to buy her a drink, and after some light hemming and hawing, she agrees, and it’s so nice to see Mo with a smile on her face. If Officer Tony ever does anything to hurt her, though, we will track him down and beat his fictitious ass with her infamous hurley-of-doom.

It’s a sad going-away do over at the Dalys’ for everyone but Dee, who’s beaming like someone who’s finally about to scrape some dog poo off her shoe that she stepped in 25 years ago. Noreen breaks the news to Katy that Ferdia won’t be able to make it after all, because he’s been delayed, and also doesn’t want to come. Katy is fine with this, because as everyone except Noreen realizes, she gives even less of a shit about Ferdia than she does about, well, everybody else she knows. John Joe, who is determined to get plastered as soon as possible, declares that Ros na Rún will always be Katy and Jason’s home, and they shouldn’t be embarrassed to come back when if when Tenerife is a complete failure. Of course Katy goes nuts because they haven’t even left yet and he’s already planning for them to fail, so the fight is on, although Dee keeps brightly offering hilarious nuggets of wisdom such as “How lovely that the children will be trilingual!” and “I hear Tenerife has beautiful cliffs for young Irish women to fall off of!”

At the skateboard park or wherever Micheál works, there is Laoise + Eric + Micheál stuff, again, during which she cancels her date with Eric, and, after he slinks off, actually says this to Micheál: “Ignore me, I get cranky sometimes.” This is the most succinctly and insightfully any character on this show has encapsulated everything you need to know about him or her since the time Katy said of herself and Jason, “I don’t even know why we’re fighting.” Anyway, she starts throwing herself at Micheál, telling him how wonderful he is and how perfectly matched they are, and it’s a good thing Ireland has universal healthcare, because if she keeps this up he’s going to need treatment for a severe case of whiplash.

Back at the world’s most awkward party, John Joe is drunk, and Mack isn’t far behind him, and everybody is frowning except for Dee, who looks like she just won the lottery. Her enthusiasm is dimmed slightly when Noreen suggests that she and Mack could move into Katy and Jason’s flat when they go, and it’s hard to blame her, given that the house where she and Mack currently live is lovely and sunny and bright, whereas this place is like living inside Violet Beauregarde. Oblivious Mack thinks this sounds like a grand idea, and says he’ll speak to Vince about it, which will be difficult for him to do with a mouthful of Dee’s fist. Katy, sensing that the focus of the party is slipping away from what a complete wagon she’s being, lashes out at John Joe for a while, but he ignores her and instead starts narrating the emigrant experience for her, History Channel St Patrick’s Day documentary-style. You can practically hear the uilleann pipes. He launches into a tale of woe about the first time he went to London, where he desperately missed the shamrocks and leprechauns, and also lost his shillelagh on the Underground. This really is the worst Pogues B-side ever. Katy makes pukey faces and rolls her eyes so far back in her head she can see what’s happening in the back garden, and in response to Noreen beginning to weep about the plight of the emigrant, Dee hilariously announces that she and Mack are leaving now, making no attempt to hide the fact that she’s not going to let this tear-filled production of Angela’s Ashes meets Far & Away rain on her parade. See, Katy, Dee is demonstrating how to be a fun brat. Make a note of it. Katy and Jason walk them out, having to run to keep up as Dee leaves clouds of dust in her wake like a fleeing cartoon character, and as they stand in the doorway watching John Joe and Noreen break into a tearful chorus of “Letter from America,” Katy tells Jason that they’ll have to say goodbye in Ros na Rún, because there’s no way she’s going to let them carry on like this at the airport. To be fair, I’m pretty sure there’s a special stage for these types of performances across from the Aer Lingus ticket counter.

At the pub, Tony and Mo are sharing a flirty round, and things seem to be going very well between them indeed, in spite of the allegedly entertaining police stories he’s regaling her with. After all this time living with Peatsaí, Mo appreciates any story that takes place in the 21st century and does not involve waking up in an alley behind a porno theater in Boston with your shoes missing. Caitríona and Laoise arrive, and when she spots Micheál and some guy we’ve never seen before at the bar together, Caitríona smirkily assumes Mr Stranger Danger is Laoise’s date and is a complete smug pill about it. Of course Laoise doesn’t correct Caitríona’s misunderstanding, because her actual date Micheál is busy giving a detailed lecture on the different types of cow manure while simultaneously choking on a peanut, and sadly these are not two of her many fetishes.

Fia and Máire’s eyes shoot out on stalks when a bloody-faced Adam arrives at the B&B with a nervous-looking Pádraig in tow, and when pressed for an explanation, the pair of them start spinning a TOTALLY BELIEVABLE tale set in Galway Paris Spiddal about how Adam was studying at the library—no, wait, he was serving lunch at the soup kitchen—and these two—no, seven!—guys came by and randomly punched him in the face—no, groin! No, wait, face. Face and arse. And then Pádraig just happened to be passing by on his way back from a museum—no, the Olympic trials!—and found him bleeding on the pavement looking for his wallet. Oh, yeah, we forgot to mention that the eleven ninjas on horseback who punched Adam in the face also stole his wallet. This story really is only a flying robot and a time-traveling dragon away from Mack explaining to Dee why he forgot to pick up the dry cleaning. Even Adam realizes this story has gotten away from them a bit, especially when Pádraig brings up the escaped rhinoceros, but he realizes there’s nothing to be done now except to go with it and look very sad and ninja-ed. Fia throws her arms around poor dote Adam’s neck and exclaims what a good friend Pádraig is, and Adam agrees in as genuine a manner as he is capable of doing anything. It looks like they’ve escaped this close call … until Máire shouts that she’s calling the Gardaí because these hooligans must be punished. Dark vengeance! Pádraig and Adam shout her down, explaining that the city is full of yobs in “hoodies and trackies” (which Pádraig says as if they are hypothetical garments he’s only read about in Tsk Tsk, The Youth Of Today magazine) and besides, Adam only had €10 in his wallet and has cancelled all his cards already anyway.

Pádraig leaves, and Fia takes Adam, who also appears to have stopped to get a haircut on the way home, upstairs to recover from this exhausting storytelling performance, leaving Máire alone in the kitchen. Of course she’s hyperventilating and crossing herself and begging for Zeus and Thor to preserve her, because in Maire’s world, the next best thing to being a crime victim yourself is knowing someone who was a crime victim. She tries to calm her nerves by washing dishes, and in the process of moving items randomly around the counter, she picks up Adam’s jacket, and his wallet falls out onto the floor! She picks it up, looks at it, and starts shaking her head disapprovingly in the direction of the multimedia production of Bullshit On Ice she’s just had to sit through. Don’t worry, Máire: this will all make sense when the boys explain that they forgot to tell you about the part where they ran into an alternate Adam from a parallel universe who gave Adam-Prime his wallet in order to restore the balance of the spacetime continuum and also, errr, LOOK OUT, THERE’S A BIG DOG BEHIND YOU!

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