Original subtitles

-Tracy!

Mommy had an accident. She's gone.

-Jesus.

-That's Zein, Sam's brother.

-He just fumbles around and fucks everything up.

-This is not an intervention. -Move!

Let me out now! -How you been, man?

♪♪

♪♪

-Close your mouth. You look like someone who's been in a skiing accident.

Lina.

Thank you.

-Are you Uncle Zein's girlfriend?

-Not his girlfriend. It's his friend.

They're just having a sleepover.

-Y-Yeah, no, because Sally's from the country, so...

-Yeah, I just...

-You were helping me with some design ideas for my room. -Yeah.

Design ideas.

-Bye.

-Okay. Open up, Nancy.

Nancy. [Clicks tongue] -Let me try.

-Thank you.

-I'm an elf, and I have lipilepsy.

-Epilepsy. -That's what I said.

-Okay. Mwah. Have a good day, yeah? -Bye.

-Oh, my beautiful Egyptian queen.

[Both speak foreign language]

-Bye, Sally. -Bye.

[Door opens]

-There's never any milk.

Do you have a cow on your farm? -[Laughs]

Hey, I live on Clanbrassil Street.

-You starving? -Big time.

-Say so.

Heard you and Uncle Sam moving furniture all night.

-All right. Say "ah."

-And this morning.

-Okay, let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go.

Go, girl.

-Bye, Sally.

-Bye, Sally. -Bye.

[Door opens]

[Laughs] [Door closes]

Oh! Come on.

I'll buy you a coffee.

-I actually have a sofa I want you to help me move.

♪♪

♪♪

-Been so long.

Wasn't even sure if you're still my agent.

-[Laughs]

-Are you still on my...

-No. Hard to represent a writer who doesn't write.

-I'm writing. -Oh, send it to me.

-Like in an e-mail?

-No, like in a bottle. Of course in a bloody e-mail.

Oh, please tell me you're not still using that heap of junk.

-Oh, the Stan -- -Stan Laurel, sir, I know, I know.

Your lucky typewriter.

[Sighs] Look, I'm sorry about Tracy,

and it is nice to see you, Sam, but what do you want?

-I'm writing copy for Styles of Tiles.

I need real work.

-Sam, you're a comedy writer.

You feeling funny right now?

For old times' sake, Sam, I won't bullshit you.

You're done. No one will see you. No one.

♪♪

-I'm sorry. It's over. Just leave me alone.

-Please, one more chance.

-No. James, I promise I won't...

-Look at this, Tara.

-Really? Me? But why?

-Protection. -Story, losers.

-Hey, that's not very --

-It's okay. It's just my sister.

-Why doesn't she have a helmet?

-That look like a fucking helmet to you, dipshit?

-Hat. Her headgear.

-It's a hijab. Leave him alone, Lina.

-Sorry for calling your hijab a helmet.

So stupid.

-Your man Ben thinks you're going to be a big star in L.A.

-I did this American... last year -- "Crown of Thorns."

It's about the last days of Christ.

Believe it or not, I was actually playing.

-Fuck me. Jesus? -At your service.

-"Fuck me Jesus" is the name of the action figure.

I'll send you one if you like.

-At least I can say I finally shagged a famous person.

Will you still talk to me? -Fuck, no.

But you can jump on me Instagram.

As Jesus, I'm always looking for new followers.

There it is.

It's nice, isn't it?

-Is that £7,500?

-Yeah, but it's got a co-axial master chronometer.

-Yeah, it could contain a kilo of cocaine,

I still wouldn't spend £7,000 on it.

Come on.

♪♪

What the?

♪♪

♪♪

-Why you don't say me about this?

Why don't ask for help?

-They're vapes. Like for smoking.

-Smoking?

-Who? Lina?

My God! Why?

My family is cursed.

I wish I was dead. -That's two of us.

Please.

Really feel like screaming the house down.

-Don't ever yell at children.

Lean in close, whisper.

Much scarier.

[Vibrating]

[Speaks foreign language] -It's a vape, like I told you.

They're everywhere.

-For smoking? -Yeah. Give me it, give me it, give me it.

No!

That's cancer. You want cancer? They're very addictive. Very.

-You a very stressed man.

Enough. I have money, I help you.

-No. What? Why would I want your money?

Okay. No. Stay out of my private things.

Listen to me, you mad man, okay?

We never mention this. Ever. Ever, ever.

[Both speak foreign language]

-[Sighs]

[Cellphone ringing, vibrating]

-Perfect. The school.

-Mrs. Silk --

Oh, I can be there in five. Yeah.

Thank you. Bye. Bye-bye.

♪♪

[Stuffed animal squeaking] [Muttering]

Fucking face!

[Stuffed animal squeaks]

-[Speaks foreign language]

-You might need to have a little conversation regarding religion.

-Which one? -Exactly.

Uh, Nancy was praying in the yard at lunchtime.

She had a towel over her head and was bowing to "Allah"

while holding rosary beads and shouting, uh,

I think it was like a Hail Mary,

but there was a lot of poetic license,

if you know what I mean. Then there's this.

They were drawing things they'd like to do with their family.

-Fuck me.

-She also has nits, I think.

-Okay, great. She hasn't started cooking crystal meth or anything yet.

-It's only Monday. I'll keep you posted.

-Come on, Nancy. Come on.

♪♪

-Why do you never pray?

-I pray, just in private.

-Where do you do that, in the toilet?

-No.

-When you watch Man United and say,

"Jesus, Fred, you're fucking shite"?

-Jesus Christ. Watch your language. No.

[Chuckles]

It's -- It's strange,

all the different religions, right?

-I don't think so.

I don't believes in Allah because he's Muslim

and lived in Egypt, and Allah's the God over there.

And Granny believes in Jesus and Mary and all because

she's from Northern Ireland and God is God there.

Why does God stay in heaven all the time?

Wish we could visit him and say hi.

And Mommy. That'd be cool.

-Nancy, you don't feel...sad or anything, do you?

Because you can always talk to me.

You know I love you more than anything.

-Love you, too, Baba, till the day I die.

-Nancy. Nancy.

N-Nancy! Nancy!

♪♪

Oh!

♪♪

Nancy, did you pick up that head lice medicine we bought?

-You still here? -Jesus, Timna, what are you doing?

-I thought you were meeting Cormac after you got Nancy.

-Oh, shite. Cormac. The fucking receipts.

Did you give Nancy rosary beads and teach her a Hail Mary?

-Yep. -You don't think that's something

I should have known about?

She said you're taking her to McDonald's every Sunday after church.

McMass. That's very cute.

-I'm sorry. Is Mo booked in for a burqa fitting?

-Funny.

Look, I know you and Bob are slugging it out

for the souls of my children,

but you both need to remember, those girls just lost their mom.

-I know well who they've just lost.

I know you sneer at us, at religion,

but let me educate you, boy.

See, faith is a crutch to all the heartbreaking shite

we have to traverse in life.

But you, though, I mean, you believe in nothing.

Faithless. How's that working out for you?

♪♪

-Me accused of racial harassment?

Me? My family's Black.

-Wow. Are you referring to me? Yeah.

-I'm not Black.

-Yeah, but look, you're -- you're African.

You're Muslim. It's the same fucking thing.

-No, no, no. No, it's not.

Do you not see you asked two new Black colleagues

one from Temple, one from fucking Athlone,

whether or not the company should start a basketball team?

-I love basketball. And what's so offensive

about asking a Black person if they get sunburned?

Look, that's not racism. It's a skin-care question.

Look, I wear factor-50 most days.

-Okay. Well, it's in bad taste, then.

People used to say to me all the time, "You don't look Irish.

Where are you from?" -Pal,

they're just asking where you're from-from,

because you don't fucking look Irish, do you?

-That's the point.

I'm from-from here, you fuckhead.

Those guys, they're from here.

-Okay, Sam...

have I ever offended you?

Like, have I ever been racist to you?

-Cormac, you're always racist to me.

But I'm not offended by you

because you're a pasty prick who smells of factor-50.

-'Cause I'd hate to make you "falafel."

-Wow. -Falafel.

-No, no, I get it. That's very funny.

That's very mature of you. It's good.

Cormac, can we please talk about this? -Yes. Sam, this is not good.

You're tax free in the first 50 grand of anything you write. -I know.

-Yeah, but do you, though? -Yeah. I know.

-Then fucking write something.

-[Sighs]

-Lina.

Lina. Why is the door locked?

[Lock clicks]

-Privacy. Ever heard of it?

-Come have some lasagna. I want to talk.

-No, I'm doing my spoken word for tomorrow. -Fine.

Explain this. -They're not mine.

-Of course not. -[Scoffs]

You're so cringe. They're Tara's,

if you really must know everything.

Please don't embarrass her about it.

She's got anxiety. She's diagnosed. -[Gasps]

-She's doing cognitive behavioral therapy.

How would I even know what that is?

Are we done here?

-I think so.

[Whispers] For now.

Okay? -Good talk.

♪♪

♪♪

[Pleasurable moaning]

[Music playing on TV] -Ah!

-Zein! What the? -Aah!

W-What are you doing? -W-W-What are youdoing?

-Out!

Weirdo.

-Do you not get really hot with it on?

You don't shower with it, do you?

-Yeah. It dries on the way to school.

-Well, I don't know!

Do you sleep with it on?

What?!

Oh, wait. Shit! Check it out, check it out.

Vagina tears.

My vagina cries.

Can you hear it? Did you miss it?

It's telling you something secret like a seashell.

You can hear of faraway places and faces and races,

like a shoe without laces.

My vagina amazes.

-Is that it?

I can see why your vagina cries so much.

-Show us yours, then. -My vagina?

-Your spoken word.

-I was worried mine was too shite to say out loud,

but now that I've heard yours... -Hey!

-That was good.

-You're like one of those little dogs that goes around and humps

sofas and old people that come to visit.

-I have a high sex drive. -Well, why don't you go to your bedroom

and watch Pornhub like any normal degenerate?

-I finished it. -What do you mean, you finished it?

-Right, listen, last night, I found that old VHS player

and all our old tapes in Bob's attic.

I didn't mean to come home and have a pedal.

I was literally watching "Star Wars."

You know, the original-original,

the one when Han shoots Greedo first.

-Oh, God, even I fancy a wank now.

-Anyway, I was watching that.

And then that other thing came on.

So... -So what?

You thought you bang one out in the living room?

You've got three nieces. What if they walked in

and saw you walking around with a big handbrake on you?

-Okay. -It's very far from okay.

-I'm sorry. Okay?

I know going through a lot, but...

-What, Zein? The vapes, Nancy's mass suicide portrait,

my nonexistent screenplays?

Need to be a tad more specific, mate.

-Listen -- -No. Youlisten.

We both know you're not going to stay.

You like to run. So go on, take a fucking hike.

Get out of me sight.

See ya.

That's my night cream, animal.

Dog.

-That's what he said. -That's so funny.

-Okay, okay. Quiet down.

Nice and quiet, please.

So on Monday, I asked you all to create a modern poem

or a spoken word inspired by freedom.

What did you write, Tara?

-It's, um, about the everyday tolerance

of verbal sexual harassment against women's anatomy, sir.

I called it "Vagina Tears."

-Of course you did. How about you, Lina?

-Um...

I wrote about freedom from the manipulative traits

of parental dishonesty.

I don't want to perform it, though. It feels personal.

-I thought you wanted to go do drama studies, though.

Come on. Up here.

-"Stop giving me grief. Just speak.

Denial of river in Egypt. What a fucking Egypt!

You're lame. Think you change?

But, no, same, same. She's dead because of you.

No lies. That's true. You murdered her daily.

The loveless life of a lady from a man drowning in failure

because the bastard's so lazy.

I wish youhad died,

wish for a house full of youths.

It's why cutting words in my bedroom

are known as home truths. You murdered my own me,

my mother, my mentor.

Like the pen that I write with, never owned her, just lent her.

Only currency left is you, Daddy. And fuck it, I spent you."

[Applause]

-Nice. Very good. Okay.

So who wants to follow that, then?

-70 cent, Baba.

-For one bag. I need four. That's 2.80 Euros.

You crazy? -For the environment.

-Then plant the flippin' tree.

You know what you can buy for 2.80 Euros?

-What? A chicken? -Half a chicken.

You can buy half a chicken for 2.80 Euros.

The nice one. Like in my roof rack.

-Backpack. It's called a backpack.

-Look, you need to help your brother.

Why do you think you're living rent free? To help.

-He doesn't want anybody's help.

-When Sammy's mother died,

I was all alone. -Oh, don't, don't, don't, don't.

-Sammy never asked me for money.

Your mother left me, and he'd suck chicken off my fingers.

-How can one man talk about chicken so much?

-I love chicken.

Zein, listen, Sammy won't take money from me,

and he's very financially stressed.

Very. -Yeah. You think?

Look, even if I had the money, he wouldn't take it.

-Zein, Sammy won't speak to me his problems.

You understand? So you help me help him.

I have 10,000 Euros, but you tell him money not from me.

From you.

♪♪

-You're not doing MMA training again.

-It's grand. I just drop my guard.

It's how you learn.

-It's not grand. Look at your face, Layla.

You're not doing it. Forget it. No way.

-But I love it. It's good exercise.

-Well, go for a swim or do a HIIT class or something.

-HIIT class? Oh, yeah. That's great.

Next time someone attacks me, I'll just show them my box jumps.

What's really wrong?

Is it because I wore a hijab

and didn't nits like the rest of you infidels? -Funny.

-Tell me what's wrong. Let me help.

-Look at that.

-She's only 7. She'll get better. Bit shit though, I suppose.

Like, this one's got three fingers.

-Not the quality of the drawing.

Whatshe's drawing. That's all of us, Layla.

-Snorkeling?

Snorkeling.

-Baba? -Just remembering the fish.

Jesus!

Give me a sec, Layla.

-Can we talk?

-Can you keep your trousers up? -Uh...

I never lived with kids. So, yeah, I messed up.

The point today, the morning,

riding in your bed all the time, that's not even fair on you,

because you're not even getting any. -Thanks.

-I haven't done what I promised to do, and that stops today.

All right? I'll help you with the girls.

Full stop. I promise. We're brothers and...

This is 3,000 Euros. I had it for updating

the show reel, but -- -I don't want your money.

-Well, it's not for you. It's for the girls.

Come on, Sammy, just let me help you.

Just don't tell Baba because I still owe him a few quid.

-I -- -Don't. Don't say anything. Just come here.

There we go. You locked in? -Yeah.

-I love you, Sammy.

-Did you wash my sheets at least?

-No.

And that's total honesty, bro. -Thanks.

♪♪

♪♪

-Ow, Baba, you're pulling my hair.

-I haven't seen these in fucking donkeys, man.

[Cellphone rings]

-Hey, Nuala. Yeah, I can talk. Just give me a sec.

Yeah. Well. That's great. Like when?

Next month? -Okay, how much longer, pal.

-Yeah. Just give it five more minutes, ma'am.

-Okay. Five minutes. -No, I won't fuck it up.

I'll be ready, I-I-I am ready.

-Ooh, "Cocktail." Anybody want to watch this?

-Okay. Bye.

-"When he pours, he reigns." Yes, he fucking does.

-You okay?

-Lina, you can talk to me. Lina!

[Door slams]

-Teenagers. They'll be okay.

I'll bring in more cash once I get the signing on --

-Look at this! It's the original-original

"Star Wars," where Han shoots Greedo.

-Jesus Christ. Cormac!

-♪ On every street, in every house ♪

♪ In every shop in this country ♪

♪ This is where we are

♪ This is where we are ♪

♪ On every street, in every house ♪

♪ In every shop in this country ♪

♪ This is where we are

♪ This is where we are ♪

♪ On every street, in every house ♪

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