Monday, June 11, 2018
I Might Have Tried Washing It, But Maybe That's Just Me
Season 22, Episode 80
First aired 7 June 2018
Have we discussed the fact that Ros na Rún won Ireland’s Villagiest Village? And the grand prize was a beanbag chair and a selfie stick for the teen hangout room we have never seen? I’m not sure it was the most thrilling result for a storyline that went on for a year—using the money to build a monorail would’ve been more interesting, especially when Áine hijacked it and crashed it into the side of Tayto Park—but I suppose it’s satisfying to know that Ros na Rún is, in fact, the villagiest village in all of Ireland. That will look much nicer on the signs than “The Murder Capital of the West.”
Anyway, it’s a new day, one on which there will be no screenshots because: TG4 website weirdness. We open out in the street where Frances checks her account balance at the ATM and then frowns in the direction of the pub. She senses that perhaps there have been further financial shenanigans on Tadhg’s part, with Exhibit A being that there is no money in their joint account and Exhibit B being that on her ATM receipt there is a picture of him giving her the middle finger. This is why, in the absence of a pre-nup, the first thing you should do when you get married is kill your spouse before he or she gets a chance to take all your money.
At the B&B, Máire is furiously rosary-ing, and we get the impression this has been going on for a while because her beads are smoldering. Berni offers her a nourishing bread sandwich, but she pushes it away because her simultaneous love and disgust for Fia are all the sustenance she needs, like those monks in China who mummify themselves by eating a lot of cedar chips and potpourri.
Meanwhile, in a very artistic cut across town that shows we are all universally connected sandwich-rejecters, we see Bloody Peatsaí, whose sobriquet has never been more accurate than it will be today, pushing a sandwich away and coughing dramatically. Sorry, Peats, but each soap only gets one death-by-coughing per season, and we’ve already had ours for this year. Deaths that are still up for grabs include “standing too close to a windmill” and “getting pushed in front of a bus by Adam.”
Back at the B&B, Berni lets Máire finish the bit about being the fruit of Jesus’ womb and then interrupts her to tell her to knock it off. She suggests they go for a walk, possibly to the remote Balearic Islands she is from, and after some weak protesting, Máire agrees to go, but only if Niall stays behind to answer the phone in case Inspector Clouseau calls to tell us the gendarmerie have found un p’tit peu de la DNA de Fia. (In case you have lost track of her antics since our last recap, we discovered that Pól has reported Fia, who was last spotted in France, missing and presumed garlicky.) As Máire toddles off to get her coat and weatherproof outdoor rosary, Niall grimly reports to Berni that Vanessa will be on the next flight to Paris, keeping the streak alive of no one on this show having ever bought a plane ticket with more than a 20-minute advance purchase.
Peatsaí is still staggering around the kitchen in a daze, I mean even more than usual, but has now been joined by Mo and Colm, who are excitedly packing for their day/weekend/week away at a spa. Well, Mo is pleased about the spa and Colm is looking forward to getting away from the multimedia experience that is Peatsaí. She asks Peatsaí about his finger, which you may recall was semi-eaten by a piranha last episode, and he gravely and gravelly croaks that it’s not doing too well, what with blood spraying out of it and all. Colm rolls his eyes, and Mo gives Peatsaí some aspirin for the pain, and then they make a hasty exit, which gives him an opportunity to moan and scream a lot.
Berni has dragged Máire to Gaudi, where she looks grim and stricken, even by her standards. Bobbi Lee, who is pretending to care about Fia these days as a way to get into Niall’s pants, asks Berni if there’s any news and then acts aggrieved over how they hid this whole Fia situation from her, as if she has ever given a damn about Fia in any way. Of course it’s difficult for Berni to maintain her grim composure over all this because she’s always hated Fia with the passion of a thousand fiery suns, but she half-heartedly defends her for a bit until Máire wanders over and says they should get back to the B&B and see if Niall has heard from Fia or la morgue. The mention of Niall piques Bobbi Lee’s interest, of course, and she says all this
must be making him very hard must be very
hard on him and that she might pop in later to listen sympathetically shove
her boobs in his face menacingly. Across the restaurant, there is more of the
Laoise/Eric/Imelda/Micheál love square, which now involves Eric having asked
Laoise to move in with him, and we will probably have to care about it later,
but not now.
Over at the cat-spaying clinic or wherever Micheál works, Adam finishes loading a bunch of manure into a van and then starts unloading it again because even he doesn’t know what manner of business this is or what they are supposed to be doing, but he knows Micheál screams less when he sees bags of shit being moved around. Bloody Peatsaí arrives to announce that he’s too on-the-brink-of-death to work today, but Adam tells him to shut up and get septic already.
Upstairs at the pub, Áine is being annoying and refusing to put her swimsuit on. I don’t know, either. Anyway, Frances and Tadhg get in a series of arguments, first about the health implications of the all-potato diet he’s put Áine on and then about money, i.e., the fact that they don’t have any. Frances says it’s time to settle this divorce and decide how they’re going to divide their assets, and when she says she thinks they should hire an intermediary, Tadhg repeats the word as if it’s the most ludicrous thing he’s ever heard. To be fair, “idirghabhálaí” looks like the results of an overturned Scrabble truck. After he finishes laughing, he says an idirghabhálaí sounds very expensive, but she counters that it will be cheaper than a solicitor, especially since Dee is the only one of those around here and she charges you a flat fee of €6000 just to touch her beautiful hair. Tadhg concludes that he’s not in any hurry to get this process started and then tells her to shut up so he can get back to the important business of eating crisps, and Áine, who is of course eavesdropping from the doorway, looks pleased at the thought of the trainwreck that is her parents’ divorce experiencing major delays due to track work on the Jubilee Line.
Back at the Speedo factory or wherever they work, Adam and Bloody Peatsaí are still arguing about everything. Gráinne shows up and, after Peatsaí complains about his sore finger for a while, suggests he, you know, GO TO A DOCTOR IF IT’S SO BAD. He scoffs that he doesn’t want to pay €50 to some quack. It’s unclear whether he’s referring to sexy Easter Island head Dr. Tiarnán or the female doctor with the suspicious hairdo who confirmed Andy’s fake diagnosis of African hydraulic fever. You’d think Gráinne, with her extensive nursing training, would offer to take a look at his finger to see just how oozing and fatal it is, but she instead says she’ll light a candle for him and wanders off just in time for Adam to return and start bickering with him again. Between his loving relationships with Cóilí Jackie and Bloody Peatsaí, I see a promising career in eldercare in Adam’s future.
Over at the B&B, Niall is checking all of Fia’s usual internet hangouts for signs of life, such as Fakebook, ZipBloop, and GirlsGoneWild.ie, but it seems she’s disappeared. Berni, who as usual is ironing, goes into shock when Bobbi Lee appears dressed as a Solid Gold dancer in a sparkly minidress that comes down to about two inches below her armpits. She’s carrying the world’s smallest cake, but Niall is not interested in it or any of the other gifts she’s thrusting at him, most of which are much more impressive than the cake anyway. Máire and Berni take turns making this situation all about themselves, but Bobbi Lee helpfully reassures Máire that it’s not her fault Fia ran away because everyone knows Fia is Ireland’s Wagoniest Wagon. Furthermore, she adds, all this worrying is probably pointless because Pól will have killed Fia and eaten her with a nice crusty baguette by now anyway. Surprisingly, none of these things make anyone feel any better, which is unusual since Bobbi Lee is famous for saying the right thing at the right time. Máire wanders off to faint in the other room, so Bobbi Lee takes this opportunity to go smoosh her boobs in Niall’s face comfortingly, and it’s a shame he immediately falls unconscious because he’s missing some hilarious eye-rolling and jaw-dropping from Berni at this display.
At Gaudi, Laoise tries to break the news to Micheál that Eric has asked her to move in with him, but he’s interrupted by a call from his new sexbot Annette. He leaves to go breathe heavily into the phone and so on, so then Laoise moves on to Imelda, who happens to be nearby choking on a shoelace she found in her linguini, and she tells her about Eric’s offer. It’s unclear how much Imelda cares about this, but when Laoise makes up some nonsense about how she’s worried it might upset “the girls,” which we assume refers to Eric’s daughters and not her breasts, Imelda quickly assures her that the girls don’t give a crap about anyone except themselves, what with their being complete ingrates and deadbeats. I’m paraphrasing. Imelda brightly says she’s sure Laoise and Eric will be very happy together, at least until one of them blows up their house, and then she departs, leaving Laoise grimacing indeterminately as she is wont to do.
At the pub, Peatsaí is washing down pills with brandy when Tadhg comes over to bicker with him, and it turns into a conversation about which of them is a more forceful and prodigious shitter. So, the usual with them. Tadhg wanders off and Peatsaí decides now would be a good time to unwrap his finger, which has a nasty cut through it, but is at least still finger-colored, at least for now.
After the break, during which we make prank phone calls to Laoise pretending to be Eric’s daughters and threatening to break her legs if she doesn’t stay away from our daddy, we’re back at the B&B, where Bobbi Lee is serving Niall her bazoombas on a platter. Also, cake. O’Shea arrives, ever the bearer of bad and/or confusing and/or anticlimactic news, and after Máire finishes fainting, the superintendent informs us that she’s been on the phone with Interpol and can tell us that Fia’s head has been found in France. Furthermore, it is attached to the rest of her body, which is on a party bus heading for Spain. It seems Fia was surprised to discover anyone thought she was missing, especially since she knew exactly where she was at least 50 percent of the time, and that she ditched Pól because he is a drag and also insane and probably violent. Fia is good at having realizations a year after the rest of us have had them. So anyway, she’s safely on her way to join the struggle for Catalonian autonomy, or possibly sleep with a lot of Norwegians in a youth hostel, so we can all relax and let Bobbi Lee get back to shamelessly seducing Niall. It’s worth watching this scene just for O’Shea’s hilarious reaction to watching Bobbi Lee suck whipped cream off herself.
Upstairs at the pub, Tadhg is busy reheating last week’s instant potatoes when Áine strolls in and asks if he and Frances are getting back together. Once he determines she does not have a gun or knife, he says no, and then there is sad gathering around the family picture she drew on the back of the Jason/Jay DNA test last week. Given Jason’s recent stinky mood, Mack is a trade up, I say.
Outside, Laoise hides behind a flower and watches Micheál and Annette emerge from Gaudi, start making out in the middle of the street, and then head off to his place arm-in-arm for an evening of University Challenge and then going to bed at 9pm. Laoise sighs and looks distraught because it seems ignoring the 7000 opportunities she’s had to tell Micheál how she feels is finally, unexpectedly coming back to bite her in the arse.
Over at the karate studio where they work, Adam sees Peatsaí staggering around and barfing up his words like Shane MacGowan at an infants’ school Christmas pageant. A customer leaves, having been sufficiently thrown up on, and Adam comes over and hisses that he can’t believe Peatsaí is at work drunk. I think the unbelievable part here is that Peatsaí is at work, not that he is drunk, though I am only about 60 percent sure here. Adam explains that it’s one thing to be at work on Ecstasy, Molly, Crystal, cocaine, Quaaludes, peyote, or any combination of drugs from Schedules 1 through 4, but that being here drunk is a bridge too far. Peatsaí is of no use to anyone in this state and has to leave, Adam continues, and he needs to be careful with this line of reasoning because if being useless is a reason to send somebody home, then neither one of them should be here, ever.
Back at the B&B, Bobbi Lee has finished showing Niall how she can tie an electrical cord in a knot with her tongue. His dazed expression is like Alice’s at the Mad Hatter’s tea party, and eventually Máire wanders in from the other room having spoken to Fia on the phone and she and Berni together are able to shoo Bobbi Lee away. Her breasts leave, and then thirty seconds later the rest of her follows, and then Máire explains that Fia is fine: she ditched Pól because he sucks and she wanted to travel alone, and if she’d had any idea they thought she was missing, she would’ve answered their dozens of frantic phone calls rather than ignoring them and showing the security guards at the Barcelona airport how she can chug an entire bottle of sangria in one go. Niall finally asks when she might get her little blonde behind back here, and Máire sadly tsks that it might be “a while” before we see Fia again. I mean, if she had just held out one more week it would’ve been summer break and then she could’ve left Liam Óg in the props cabinet for three months without seeming so neglectful.
Peatsaí has somehow staggered home, and he’s out of breath and stops to lean against assorted walls and doorframes and grab his various organs that are shutting down. He crashes down at the table and proceeds to unwrap his bandage again, revealing that since we last saw it, his finger has tripled in size and turned purple. If you’ve ever seen an ear of Mexican blue corn, you’re about halfway there.
Frances arrives at the pub and Tadhg, after shooing away an extra who may or may not be one of the floor managers on the show, he tells her he’s thought about her proposal, and while he still doesn’t want to talk to an idirghabhálaí, mostly because he can’t spell it, he does agree that it’s time to get this separation settled and move on with their lives. Frances assents, and emotionlessly says she’ll be expecting to see some money in her account very soon before exiting, at which point Tadhg goes over to the till, takes out a giant wad of cash, and stuffs it down his Y-fronts.
Out in the street, Katy and Mack wander by having a cozy conversation about Jay’s new race-car bed, and then Laoise tells Eric she accepts his invitation to move in with him, which of course has nothing to do with the fact that things seem to be getting serious with Micheál and Annette. Then we’re upstairs at the pub, where Tadhg has taken the cover off the air vent and shoves today’s giant wad of cash in there with several other huge stacks of money, and looks very pleased with himself indeed.
Back at Peatsaí’s, he’s sitting at the kitchen table gasping for air and looking semi-comatose, I mean even more than usual, when he finally decides to pick up his mobile and call for help. For some reason, however, rather than making the call while he’s sitting there, he decides he needs to start dialing and then leap up and walk briskly across the room, at which point he of course loses consciousness and crashes to the floor head-first. The moral of this story is that you should never go fishing with Mack, because while you’re busy trying to show him that it works better if you stand on the shore and cast your line into the river rather than the other way around, you step in a big puddle of septicemia and don’t even know it.