There is quarry talk between John Joe and Tadhg over at Gaudi, the gist of which is that John Joe isn’t allowed to tell Frances about this deal or else she’ll want half of Tadhg’s share because bitches be greedy and so on. It’s nice that all the qualities that drew Tadhg to Frances in the first place—i.e., the fact that she has a brain and doesn’t take any crap from anyone—are now the things about her that terrify him. John Joe considers mentioning the thing Ferdia told him about how the quarry business is dying because houses are made out of the Internet rather than stone these days, but then he remembers that having a conversation with Tadhg is pointless and that he would inevitably complain that he can’t understand John Joe’s hilarious accent anyway, so he drops it. Tadhg leaves and John Joe goes to ask a nearby Noreen, who is a noted expert on the stone industry, what’s the real reason she and Ferdia didn’t buy the quarry, and she tells him that it’s because she insisted she’d rather live in a house than in an open pit and that Ferdia is just making up all this “rock is dead” nonsense because he’s jealous. Surely there’s some kind of ointment at the pharmacy we could rub on Ferdia to make him go away.
An episode of Antiques Roadshow has broken out back at the pub, where David and his mail sack are trembling with fear as Cóilí Jackie demands to know if he means, like, the 3000, as in 2999 plus 1. David isn’t sure about this because, as we saw last week, Gráinne’s attempts to teach him to count have been fruitless, but he is able to explain that it turns out the vase was made by Leonardo da Vinci out of the powder of a thousand crushed Faberge eggs, but its true value comes from the fact that it was once owned by Deirdre off Coronation Street. Noted art connoisseur Cóilí Jackie doesn’t care if it was shat out by Zeus himself, he just wants it back so he can sell it himself and keep the money. David weakly protests, “Don’t you care about Mo’s medical bills?”, which of course Cóilí Jackie does not, and in fact offers to give David some medical bills of his own by pummeling the crap out of him if he doesn’t get his vase back.
As Cóilí Jackie chokes David as if they are Homer and Bart Simpson, respectively, Amy wanders past trying not to make eye contact and asks Bobbi Lee if it’s OK if she brings the Ireland’s Villagiest Village judge she’ll be handcuffed to later by the pub given that it’s one of the three places in town. She then notices that Bobbi Lee, whose name seems to have been de-hyphenated lately, presumably due to budget cuts at TG4, is scratching her neck, which is all enflamed and red. She explains that she thinks she’s having an allergic reaction to something, and you can tell it’s really bothering her because she was too distracted to volunteer to put on her cowgirl outfit and sing the judges a few songs. Amy volunteers that this reminds her of one time she got a rash because she used a contaminated batch of Boots Face & Toilet Scrub, which causes Bobbi Lee to rifle through her purse and dig out a jar of Áille na Gráinne, which, like Ireland’s Villagiest Village, is a story that keeps coming back every time we think it’s done.
The manure is deep over at Loinnir, where Caitríona is explaining to the judge that this place is called a beauty shop, where for over 1600 years locals have been coming to get their hair polished and nails curled for special occasions such as weddings and stabbings. Just as she’s about to show her their special new walk-in wig washer, Gráinne appears and offers to give her a complimentary seaweed treatment, i.e., hang her by her ankles and dip her into the Atlantic Ocean. The judge thinks this sounds iontach indeed, and as she heads off to change into a robe and sign a few legal documents absolving the salon of any responsibility in the unlikely event of her being dissolved, Caitríona hisses to Gráinne to make sure she uses an entire bottle of kelp juice to get the full effect of the molecularization.
At Loinnir, Judge Judy is being reduced to elements at the subatomic level in the back room while Gráinne tells Caitríona this is all a big success, especially now that the screaming has stopped. Just then Bobbi Lee strolls in and shows them the rash on her neck, which looks like she’s been bitten by a vampire, and blames the Áine na Sauna, which of course turns out to be the same batch Judge Judy is vaporizing in back in Treatment Room B. Gráinne insists that isn’t possible because natural products can’t be bad for you, adding that she uses the finest quality hemlock and arsenic in her products, but Bobbi Lee tells her that when the skeleton of poor Judge Judy is returned to Ireland’s Villagiest Village headquarters in Croatia, that will be the end of Ros na Rún’s dreams of whatever the goal of all this is.
Tadhg lets himself into Maggie’s with his key and, finding no one’s home, starts snooping around disapprovingly. He finds a silk scarf in a bin bag, and though it’s clearly never been worn it apparently smells like Maggie, which is enough to set him off. He starts lightly ransacking the place, turning over her old-timey accoutrements, throwing her spinning wheel at the butter churn and so on, and given his severe case of Crazy Eyes, it seems he’s really lost it this time. I suppose all the smashing is a case of “If I can’t have it, nobody can,” although it’s unclear why he doesn’t just take what he wants as reminders of Maggie rather than destroying it, and even more unclear why he hasn’t taken all this stuff in the 2 months since Maggie died if it’s so important to him. You can’t be expected to think clearly when your long-lost sister-lover has just died, I guess.
After the break, during which we are forced to watch the same 8-minute-long Woodie’s commercial twice in a row, John Joe and Ferdia are having yet another argument they might as well go ahead and settle by dropping their pants and getting out the tape measure. They’re also dressed for a sub-Arctic day in layers of cable-knit sweaters and parkas, which is making me start to suspect that perhaps this show isn’t broadcast live!!
We see John Joe signing the papers making him the owner of the quarry just as he sinks out of view in its quicksand, and then we return to the pub, where Mo is sweeping up €3000 worth of history and the people at Trinity College count their blessings that they said no when the producers asked if they could borrow the Book of Kells for a few days. Tadhg stomps in and waves Bobbi Lee off when she excitedly tries to tell him about what’s just happened, and when Mo follows him to the bar and tells him she can’t pay her medical bills anymore, he pours them both a drink and makes a toast to their health and to Cóilí Jackie’s grisly demise.
Back at Loinnir, Judge Judge emerges from the back room dripping wet, having clearly been hosed down by Gráinne and the local fire brigade. She thinks they didn’t leave the seaweed on long enough, what with there still being a few spots where you can’t see her skeleton, but Gráinne says you have to rinse it very thoroughly because of the minerals and high poison content. The judge asks if she can have some Soya LaToya to take back to wherever she lives, but Gráinne and Caitríona quickly explain that, err, they’re out of it because demand spiked. And all these dozens and dozens of jars and tubes of it stacked everywhere are for display only. And if she asks any more questions, they’ll shoot her.
Back at the pub, Tadhg tries to scam John Joe out of 25 percent of the newly purchased quarry, but John Joe outmaneuvers him by threatening to tell Frances about it, which sticks a potato in his tailpipe for the time being. We then cut to the café, where the handful of people who care about Ireland’s Villagiest Village are watching the three judges frown at a clipboard, as if there will be any resolution to any of this today. They’ll be less excited about this contest when they discover the winning town will be bulldozed to build a multistory car park.
Back at Maggie’s, Fia has laid the money very neatly out on the table and announces that there’s €36,000. Guards from the bank who lent it to the producers are standing by just off-camera making sure Cóilí Jackie doesn’t drop and break it. Fia supposes they’ll have to report it to the Gardaí since it’s not theirs, but Pól thinks she’s out of her damn mind, because Maggie’s will clearly left him the house and the entirety of its contents, including any hidden money. I tend to agree with him, though we may need one of the Ireland’s Villagiest Village judges to come make a ruling. She asks him what he’d do with €36,000, since that many beer cans wouldn’t even fit in the house, and he says they should run away together, for a few months or forever. She looks intrigued, especially since summer is coming and the place will be crawling with annoying American tourists, but she can’t help feeling that there’s something she’s forgetting who possibly used to be named Nollaig.