At the café, Berni is complaining to Briain about what a dump the place he’s living in is, and we get the impression this has probably been going on nonstop since the last time we saw them two weeks ago. They keep calling it a “chalet,” which makes it sound like a ski lodge on top of an Alp. He argues that it’s not so bad, and in fact he’s organizing the spiders into a youth soccer league, but she responds by griping some more about how he deserves a decent place to live, such as the place she kicked him out of, or the other place he was in that she also didn’t like. Evan comes and goes to say things about soccer, and Berni and Briain wink at each other behind his back and turn them all into double entendres. Well, they’re really more like an entendre and a half. Finally Briain says they’ll make a love nest out of the chalet yet, and she snoots that it’s going to take some big changes to turn that place into a love nest. My first step might be getting rid of her.
Pádraig is still hanging out at Sonia’s bedside for some reason when Helen arrives with Sam in tow. He’s rude and informs Pádraig that his mother said to stay away from him, so they’re not friends anymore. Sonia really is the toxic viper that keeps on giving. Unfortunately Pádraig then tries really hard to make this whole situation about himself when it should really be about the three of them working together to figure out which of these cords is providing electricity to Sonia’s ventilator. Eventually Helen suggests that perhaps it would be best if Pádraig went out to the vending machine for some sashimi or something and that she’ll come fetch him when things settle down, or when they find a way to push Sonia’s bed onto the motorway at rush hour and make it look like suicide.
At the café, Berni is complaining to Bobbi-Lee that the dishwasher isn’t working, and at first we assume this has something to do with some sex-related injury Briain has suffered, but it turns out she’s talking about, like, an actual dishwasher. Bobbi-Lee is only semi-paying attention to any of this, and she agrees that yes yes, it’s very interesting that Berni found a Corn Flake in her Rice Krispies or whatever, but meanwhile, what’s up with the new earrings she’s wearing? She guesses that Berni’s new fancy man must’ve bought them for her because they’re tacky, but not in the way Berni’s jewelry is usually tacky, so Berni gets nervous and changes the subject by asking her if she can bring some clean plates over from Tigh Thaidhg. Oh, like Bobbi-Lee has any idea where they keep the plates at Tigh Thaidhg. She agrees reluctantly, and then on her way out tries to start a conversation with Tadhg for some insane reason about whether he thinks Berni has a man hidden somewhere. I think she means “in a secret romantic sense” rather than “shackled to the radiator in the basement,” but with both Bobbi-Lee and Berni it could go either way. Anyway, Tadhg calls her an old biddy and tells her to mind her own beeswax, but also adds that if an old lady like
Gráinne is still in the radio booth talking about something or other, and Caitríona is delighted, although we suspect her enthusiasm will wane when she remembers Gráinne’s presence here means the salon is completely unattended, giving Annette a chance to load the till into her car and drive off with it. Labhrás, meanwhile, has arrived in his official role as disapprover of everything, in this case Gráinne’s pick ‘n’ mix assortment of grammatical errors interspersed with (shudder) English words. Caitríona rolls her eyes and mutters that not everyone is as exact as he is, and he sighs that it’s true, as if it’s a terrible cross for him to bear to be the only person on earth who still knows how to correctly use the past-future-subjunctive-genitive in the fourth person. He busies himself fainting over Gráinne’s grammar just as she finishes the show with a reminder that Ireland’s Villagiest Village is not just about throwing up mussels in the pub, it’s also about getting beaten up by teenagers in Recycle Pod Park. She and Caitríona give each other thumbs-ups, and then Colm arrives and tells an obvious lie about his car not starting, and he and Caitríona start a big argument about the huge moral responsibility of working for a radio station that’s heard by literally fives of people. Meanwhile, Labhrás pulls Gráinne aside to go through his list of all her grammatical errors, such as her attempts to conjugate adjectives and her overuse of “tá tú go fucksa” as an intensifier.
At the café, an extremely sour Frances grimly carries her plate of food back to the counter and plops it down in front of Berni, spitting that she’s not going to eat a sandwich off a dirty plate. If she thinks the plate is dirty, she should see the kitchen. Berni explains about the dodgy dishwasher and offers to make another one, but Frances makes barfy faces and then says she’s going to go eat at Gaudi, where they care enough about presentation to hide the Band-Aids and press-on nails in the food where you can’t see them. As she’s storming out, Bobbi-Lee’s sneaking in with a load of plates from Tigh Thaidhg hidden under her jacket, and when she asks Berni why Frances was so upset with her, she replies that Frances is just a wagon and it’s no wonder that Tadhg dumped her. Bobbi-Lee can’t believe she’s taking Tadhg’s side, and Berni replies that it’s not fair that Tadhg always gets blamed for everything, and concludes her heroic “I Have a Dream” speech by saying, “Poor Tadhg,” which nobody has ever said before in the history of ever. Bobbi-Lee says it’s very odd that Berni is the only woman in the village on Tadhg’s side, at which Berni shrugs and walks away, and while I think Berni’s sudden switch to Team Tadhg is implausible, the Miss Marple look on Bobbi-Lee’s face tells us where all this is headed, so I’m going to allow it.
Back at the café, Labhrás is still lecturing Gráinne about her grammar, informing her that the “genital case” is not a thing and so on, and the way he’s carrying on you’d think she talks like Jodie Foster in Nell. He complains about how her bad grammar hurts his ears, and instead of taking this opportunity to demonstrate how her foot can also hurt his backside, she tells him that apparently the audience was able to understand her primeval grunting because they’ve sent in a bunch of texts praising her show. He scoffs that texts are no sign of quality, and that in fact his Grammar Garden show never gets tainted by impurities like listeners. Just as it looks like Grammar Gráinne is about to put his nose in the broken case, Caitríona shoves him into the booth for his boring nonsense, and when she sees the pages of texts Gráinne received, only half of which are dick pics, she says Labhrás can get lost, which seems to give Gráinne an idea. You know it’s dangerous when Gráinne gets an idea because usually there’s going to be either seaweed or a fatality.
After the break, we’re in hour 6 of Grammar Garden, and Labhrás takes a call about the use of seaweed (!!!) from someone who coincidentally sounds a lot like Gráinne. She’s using her best kidnapper-demanding-ransom voice to say she needs advice from a famous expert like Labhrás, and he starts sputtering and short-circuiting because this information is not contained in his Windows 95 operating system. The best part is that she’s making the call from the the next room, making this a very “the call is coming from inside the house” moment, so Caitríona goes over and wrestles the phone away from her. The damage is done, however, as Not-Gráinne has embarrassed Labhrás, whose entire self-worth is centered on the idea that he knows everything about everything and is therefore smarter than everyone else. To be fair, she can’t expect him to be an expert on seaweed, because as a young man during the First or Second or Boer War, once a month he had to trade his entire ration book for either a handful of kelp covered in sea lice or a small potato with a worm in it, but not both. Gráinne finally hangs up, and then semi-apologizes to Caitríona while smirking, saying she couldn’t resist taking him down a peg. Caitríona orders her to get back to Loinnir, although as usual she finds time for a little light threatening first.
Sonia’s sister, mother, or friend Helen has dragged Pádraig out into the corridor and tells him she can’t believe he chose this moment to tell Sam he’s his father. His excuse at first seems to be that Sam’s world is in complete chaos already, so one more thing won’t hurt, but then he clarifies that what he actually means is that he doesn’t want Sam to think Sonia, his only relative, is about to die and leave him all alone in the world. It’s unclear whether Sonia murdered the rest of her family at some point or if they all died of embarrassment. Helen, once again demonstrating that she is far too reasonable to be mixed up in any of this, calmly says she still doesn’t think this was the right time to drop this bombshell, but that she understands the sentiment, and also knows Pádraig has been trying to contact Sam for a long time. OK, I am giving up on trying to figure out where Sam has been all this time and why Pádraig couldn’t find him and Sonia didn’t know where Pádraig was and they were all lost to the mists of time and geography to each other despite all living within jogging distance in a town with 20 people. Helen narrates some more and explains that Pádraig has actually been hanging out at the school gates for years, which raises some more questions, but for the most part makes me feel better because at least it suggests that Sonia is the only clueless one here who couldn’t find her arse with both hands. Helen laments that keeping Sam and Pádraig away from each other is what Sonia wanted, and it’s what she would still want if she weren’t hooked up to that Dalek over on the next set right now. Pádraig looks pained, as if he’s about to fly back in there for another successful father-son chat with poor Sam, but Helen restrains him and suggests he go home and let her try to smooth things over.
Back at the café, Briain and Berni have finally finished washing up, so he once again tries to climb on top of her. Good lord, I’ve seen guppies that have less sex than these two. Fortunately for us all, Evan walks in just as things are about to get horizontal and starts yelling at Briain that they’re going to be late for the soccer/darts/Scrabble tournament. He wanders off, and having dodged this Evan-shaped bullet yet again, Berni purses her lips and tells Briain for the 3000th time that they’re going to have to be more careful. Alternatively they could go have sex live on the air during Labhrás’ radio show, because that’s the one place in Ros na Rún they can be assured of having no audience.
At the pub, Colm tells Mo that Caitríona has agreed to give his radio show one more chance, especially since her only other programming option is that show where David opens people’s mail and reads it over the air. That really seems more like Radio 4 material to me anyway. He tells her he’ll go with her to the doctor tomorrow morning, where she will be having something scoped, but she says it’s not necessary because she doesn’t want him to know she’s actually just sending Máire in there with a magnifying glass. (Actually I am very traumatized by where this Mo medical storyline might be going because I LOVE MO AND HASN’T SHE SUFFERED ENOUGH??) There’s an extended sequence in which we learn that Bobbi-Lee doesn’t know how to make change, which should come as a surprise to no one, but it does give Annette a chance to be a snot about it. I haven’t had much time for Annette in the past, but I am kind of enjoying this rivalry between her and Bobbi-Lee, especially since it will almost certainly end with Bobbi-Lee grinding her into a fine paste.
David and Pádraig are still sitting at their kitchen table, and David, who is the legal expert when Dee isn’t available, advises him that if his “friend’s wife” dies, his “friend” will be legally responsible for the child, and then adds that Pádraig better tell his friend that caring for a child is a serious responsibility. I love it when David gravely says completely obvious things as if they’re profound. Pádraig replies that the father is “happy to accept that responsibility,” so David declares, “Great, then there’s no problem!” Well, that’s settled. Before he can dust off his hands and wander off to play Xbox or whatever, though, Pádraig interrupts him to say that there is one hitch, and that’s that the son hates the father. David wisely says that there’s only one solution to this problem, and that’s to fix it. Wow, it really is a tremendous loss that he’s not a priest anymore. Oh my god, you guys, I just realized, it would be the awesomest thing ever if Helen turns out to be Sonia’s lover!!! If you want that to happen, please write it on a postcard and send it to Ros na Rún Suggestion Box, Ireland. Make sure you get it in by Tuesday, because I’m pretty sure the show goes out live.