At the café, a hopeful Pádraig is trying to go through Gaudi’s menu with Micheál, who of course doesn’t know fancy words like “focaccia” and “spaghetti” and sniffs that in his day, you just ate an clump of old peat off the ground and you liked it. We forget that Micheál grew up in Victorian times. Berni comes over and interrupts with a tempting gluten-free turnip or whatever but Micheál says he can’t eat another bite or else he’ll fall asleep in his meeting with the Ireland’s Villagiest Village people. She and Pádraig argue for a while about whose gaff Micheál is going to eat his lunch of pickled tea and potato gelatin at, and then Berni explains that they can’t take the contest people to Gaudi, because they want traditional Irish food like she serves and not the Spanish slop Pádraig dishes out. She adds that the café is what the Yanks would call “quaint,” and as a Yank, I can assure her that while the café looks perfectly OK, it is not quant in any way, and in fact most Americans live within a 5-mile radius of at least 3 places exactly like it. Pádraig accurately tells her she seems to have confused the words “quaint” and “passé” (snerk), and they bicker for a bit. Eventually Micheál reveals he has no say in where the contest people have lunch, at which point Berni and Pádraig suddenly remember that they hate him and huff off. Well, I’m sure that’s the last we’ll hear of this.
At the pub, Tadhg emerges from upstairs and is dismayed to find Maggie hanging around talking to Frances. After he runs back upstairs and changes his underpants, he returns and Frances tells him that Maggie’s come up with a great idea, and that he needs to go get his wellies and a bucket. Well, of course since Maggie came up with this plan, it involves Tadhg going down to the beach. My theory is that Maggie is a mermaid who is trying to get Tadhg to evolve fins and gills so he can go live with her in her magical undersea kingdom.
Over at the B&B, Fia is Skyping with her mother, who’s telling her that when she was her age, she’d seen half the world, starred in the West End production of Dreamgirls, and shagged all but one of Kajagoogoo. She says it in a kindly tone, but her message seems to be, “And meanwhile, you sit around like a frump in some old lady’s kitchen with your illegitimate baby and your macramé vest.” Her mother, whose name I cannot remember so I am going to call Toyah, proclaims that furthermore, there’s nothing that says you have to look after a child until it’s 18 just because you gave birth to it, and asks which would be better for Liam Óg: a happy mother who goes out and has fun, or a mother who’s a depressed shut-in who collects thimbles from every county? Finally Toyah clarifies that this doesn’t mean Fia should go out partying every night, and that she should still make sure Liam Óg is fed periodically and gets rotated when he starts leaning towards the light, but that she should also go out and have some fun. If in doubt, ask yourself, “What would Bananarama do?”
Mack and Mo have just finished their workout at the community center, and she tells him she knows what he’s up to. It takes special powers of insight to see through one of Mack’s elaborate plans. He confesses that he understands depression, because he suffered from it once himself, and that exercise is all that saved him. Well, exercise and going out with his friends. And, like, talking, and Vitamin R, and sleeping 17 hours per day. OK, he doesn’t remember what helped, but the important thing is, he tried to commit suicide, but is pretty sure he didn’t. Since it’s Mack, this is all a little vague and diffuse, but we’re sad to find out he was so depressed, and are glad he didn’t kill himself, because we love him even though he makes us crazy sometimes. Fortunately Mo is able to cut through the all-over-the-placeness of this story and remember that she’s surrounded by people who love her, and she gives Mack a big hug. Awww.
The local restaurateurs, such as they are, have gathered at the pub to wait for Micheál’s announcement about which place the Villagiest Village people are going to visit or feature on their website or burn down or whatever. Berni and Pádraig are smug and snotty about the pub grub, but before Frances can punch them in their respective windpipes, Micheál arrives and announces that the panelists have chosen the place with an atmosphere that would entice tourists, especially Yanks, and has a creative menu, i.e., mussels, homemade bread, and beer. Also, the place where you don’t have to pay to use the toilets. Maggie and Frances start celebrating, and Pádraig and Berni are pissed because the pub has never served mussels, and also the ham sandwiches are full of spiders. The two of them huff off, and Tadhg announces that the mussels guy will deliver a batch tomorrow, which means now they have to find out what mussels are and how to cook them. I’m imagining mussel sandwiches in a plastic cover. Frances exclaims that it’s a good thing Maggie came around to share her excellent ideas, ISN’T IT, TADHG? Somehow I think Maggie isn’t just interested in Tadhg for his mussels.
Back at their place, we discover that Gráinne has responded to David’s news with grace and kindness, because she is Gráinne, and is even teaching him the difference between a fork and a knife. This will cut down on all his dinnertime trips to the face hospital. She tells him she knows he was only trying to protect her, but he interrupts to admit that lying to her was wrong. Well, in his defense, he didn’t think she would find out. She says it’s funny, because she never thought of herself as wanting children, but as soon as the doctor confirmed she was pregnant, she felt like a light was switched on inside her. She concludes that they’ll be all right, though, but the slow zoom into David’s facial pores suggests he’s not so sure.