All language subtitles for Bridget And Eamon s03e02 The Radio Station.eng

- My name's Father Gabriel,
I'm your parish priest,

and with the time at 11:45 a.m.,

that was the mass on
the radio for this week.

Once again, broadcasting from
Bridget and Eamon's house,

as it's the highest part of the town.

And I'd like to thank
them again for allowing me

to set up my radio equipment
in their living room,

so that explains all of that.

- Father, mention how clean my carpet is.

- And thanks to our new altar boy

for stepping in at short notice.

- I didn't agree to any of this.

- Bell.

- Ding-a-ling-a-ling.

I don't understand why I
have to wear all the cover,

like it's radio, no one's going to see it.

- Our Lord can see, Eamon,

and you need to come
in tighter on my cues.

Bell.

- Ding-a-ling-a-ling.

- Too slow.

- Father I had a really funny idea.

Okay, maybe it's not that funny,

maybe it's just a good idea,

but why don't you put me on the radio?

- Bridget, I said this to you before,

I'm a priest, you're
just an ordinary person.

- I know, but I could do a little segment

on outfits that are too slutty at mass.

Like last week, when Mrs. McClusky

wore that handmade catsuit.

Am I right, am I right?

I mean, you could see right up her--

- Bridget.

I'm your friend, so I feel
I can say this to you,

and this is just coming from
everyone I've talked to.

Nobody wants to listen to you,

and your life is completely meaningless.

(laughs)

- I was only joking.

Who would want to listen to me speak?

My existence is futile and without value.

- He stopped listening to you.

- Now, I've a busy
afternoon hiding clues to

the deepest secrets of the
Church as codes in works of art.

Which means I don't have time to bring

any of this radio equipment with me,

so I'll just leave it here.

Once again, I feel that is
pretty self-explanatory.

Bell?

- Ding-a-ling-a-ling.

- Better.

(upbeat funky music)

(ominous music)

(snapping)

- Eamon, Eamon?

Eamon there's somebody
in the house, quick!

Hello.

Hello, I'm Bridget.

I'm a housewife, I have six to eight kids.

I'm the best looking one
out of all my friends.

I have extremely choppy changy hair.

I have many hobbies including
soaking pots and pans,

and making lists and...

Let's play a game!

Yes!

Good one, Bridget.

Okay, guess who's dead?

She was 85 and used to be able to sing

Peggy Gordon backwards after a few Malibu.

Anne Fitzgribbons.

(laughs)

Oh, God rest her soul.

Tragic death, but she was
an awful pain in the hole.

Now, it's time for Bridget's Lovely Story.

- What the absolute f--

- And she was caught lying
in confession for 23 years

and I heard she had to do
46,832 Hail Marys, true story.

- What are you doing?

- My radio show, it's a mix of light chat,

unsubstantiated gossip, military tactics

and current affairs.

- You can't be on the radio,
no one wants to listen to you.

- Well, I am.

Get out, go back upstairs!

- No way, I want on, I'd be amazing.

- You can't let me do one thing by myself?

Apart from raising the
kids, cooking the dinner,

cleaning the house,
and doing the shopping,

and diffusing explosive devices

that are left on our doorstep?

- Yeah, you didn't do a very good

job on the second one, did ya?

You lost your hearing in one ear,

that's why I have to
shout at you all the time.

- What?

Testing one, two, two.

Hello and welcome to the
Bridget and Eamon Show.

I know it doesn't have the same ring

to it as the Bridget Show,
but you know, what can you do?

I'm sure my fans will still be

tuning in to listen to me, Bridget.

- What, going on about sanitary
towels and shoulder pads?

- How dare you.

People love my money saving segments.

Panty savers from sanitary
towel to shoulder pad.

- Bridget, no one is listening.

This is nothing like I imagined it.

- Oh, DJ Eamon, will you
please play a track for me?

- Sure babes, what would you like?

- Something hot.

- How 'bout some Earth, Wind, and Fire?

- DJ Eamon, don't forget about me.

- Sure, what would you like?

- Something cool.

- How 'bout some Kool & the Gang?

- Oh, I think you know what we want.

- Oh really, do I?

- You know.

- Oh, do I?

- Oh, you do.

- Oh, do I?

Oh, do I?

Do you want a fucking request, yes or no?

- Eamon, Eamon!

Oh, look!

Look, who's just walked in!

It's Darth Vader.

- Darth Vader?

The fictional nemesis from
Star Wars, Darth Vader?

- Hello Darth, you're lookin'
well, many on the road.

- I wouldn't know, because
I'm a fictional character,

and I've never seen the
film and I'd review,

and I'm pretty sure I
drive a spaceship, so.

(laughs)

- I think I know your mother, yeah.

- What's her name?

- Maura.

- Maura Vader?

- Yeah, lovely woman.

Walks with a limp, and
smokes like a Storm Trooper.

Never lost the baby weight, though.

Oh, you have to go Darth?

Oh, okay, bye bye.

- Bye Darth, say hello to
everybody in Star Wars.

- Now let's have traffic and weather.

How's the traffic, Eamon?

- The traffic?

I'll tell you one thing about

traffic in Ireland, it's shite!

Why can't we use the hard shoulder

instead of building motorways?

Motorways, mark my words, will not

take off in this country, shite.

- And the weather.

- I'll tell you one
thing about the weather

in Ireland, it's shite as well.

Utter shite.

I'll tell you one thing.

If one country could benefit from a bit

of global warming, it's Ireland, huh?

And people are worried about polar bears.

They'll rip the face off ya.

I want to be able to eat a
bit of ice cream, outside.

Shite.

- Well--
- I'll tell you

what else is shite.

I have 487 things that
are all shite, right?

Number one, parent-teacher meetings.

Shite.

Come up to the school,

we want to talk to you about your son.

Well, we sent him up there
'cause he's wrecking our head.

We don't want to talk to you

about how he's wrecking your head.

Oh, he's not doing that well.

Oh, he's not doing that well.

Yeah, he's not doing that well.

Do you know why?

'Cause he's thick as plank.

Leave him alone, he's
the height for the yards.

Number two, modern medical science.

Shite.

You know what else is shite?

- Jesus, he tells it
like it is, doesn't he?

- Do you know what else is shite?

Number 223, kiwi fruit.

You peel it, it's gone.

Where's the fruit gone, huh?

They're shite.

- More of Eamon's shite after

this old Philomena Begley tune,

"I Will Ya, But Buy Me Chips First".

♪ Well, I've got a little
thing in my purse ♪

♪ And I'm gonna make ya put it on first ♪

♪ And then you can have your
way with me all night long ♪

- And it started coming out of both ends,

so I had to leave the
supermarket immediately.

What a lovely letter.

- That's my letter!

(squealing)

- Now, I've a letter here
from an Owen Dellegrotti

from 22 Willy Malone Road in Mullinavat.

He would like to remain anonymous.

He writes in to say, "I'd
love to dress up as a woman

"and sneak into women's toilets

"and listen to them urinate."

Yeah, I definitely can't
read out the rest of that.

- We've been broadcasting
now for three days nonstop.

I have no idea what time of the day it is,

but I would just like to say
good morning to the local area!

(screaming)

- Will you stop shouting?

- Oh, it's mad in here, isn't it?

It's like a madhouse, isn't it, Eamon?

- [Eamon] No.

- Yes it is, moo moo, that's my cow.

(laughing)

It's mad, isn't it?

Oh, there's no way this would (honking)

this would be annoying
to listen on the radio

in your car going to work whatsoever.

We're mad we'd say anything!

Wouldn't we, Eamon?

- I have a very workable plan on

how to kill you and get away with it.

(honking)

- He's mad!

- Let's play a song.

This is Patty Malone
and the Thimblegigglers,

"If It's Any Consolation I
Thought She Was a Woman, Too".

♪ If it's any consolation ♪

♪ I thought she was a woman as well ♪

- How many times have I told you

not to touch my equipment, Bridget?

- Father Gabriel that only happens

after a few Midlands coolers.

This is not one of those times.

- The radio equipment.

- Don't take this away from me.

Please, please, we'll make you

entertainment correspondent.

Eamon won't do it.

- Eamon won't do it because
it's a load of shite.

- Chief entertainment correspondent.

- And now we have our
entertainment news with our

chief entertainment
correspondent, Father Gabe.

What's the goss?

- Ooh, I like that.

And in international goss, George Michael

was spotted with a new lady on his arm.

Meanwhile, Boy George has been seen out

and about with a new mystery woman.

And Jimmy Somerville, the Pet Shop Boys,

and Erasure have been seen hanging out

in London to celebrate Elton John's

birthday and apparently no lady was safe.

- Lovely!

- Ooh!

- This is shite.

No one cares about Boy
George, George Michael,

Jimmy Somerville or
any of the London-based

electronic music scene's girlfriends.

Nobody, and I mean nobody,

wants to hear entertainment updates.

- And in some local goss, the whole town

was shocked to see Teresa
Sweeney holding hands

with an English fella
who was wearing a very

rude t-shirt at the GAA
dinner dance last week.

- (gasps) That is shocking.

- Oh, I know.

(telephone ringing)

- This is shite, I'm doing a phone-in.

Hello, line one.

You're through to Eamon.

- [Caller] I blame the installation

of traffic lights for
the immigration problem.

- Yeah, you could be right.

But you know who I blame here?

You.

Why don't you emigrate?

Next.

- Anymore entertainment
goss there, Father?

- In other local goss, the IRA have

blown up the railway line again.

- Not so much goss, but I like it.

(telephone ringing)

- You're through to
straight-talking Eamon, caller.

Yes, go ahead.

- [Caller] I blame the national
obsession with using trays

at Carbury's for the
national alcohol problem.

- I blame you, you alcoholic.

Next!

- Eamon, this is not how we get

our disenfranchised female listeners!

You don't listen to me!

- I told you before, I don't like carrots!

Why do you keep puttin'
carrots on my plate?

I don't like them!

- Do you know what?

You talk an awful lot
of shite and you don't

listen to me, but you
weren't always like this.

Okay, so you always talked shite,

but there was a time you listened to me.

Remember?

(harp music)

Oona's brother was found dead in bed

on Saturday, it was so sad.

And how did he die?

I mean, he put perm lotion
in for two weeks, two weeks!

That's far too long, you
can't put it in for two weeks,

it'll ruin your scalp, but it did ruin it,

'cause it killed him.

- Babe, babe, babe!

Your stories are really
pointless and boring,

but I just love listening to you talk.

I could listen to you forever and ever

and ever for the rest of my life.

Let's write a song about the perm.

♪ That perm doesn't suit you ♪

♪ You look like Brian May ♪

♪ On a bad hair day ♪

(clapping)

It needs a middle H, need to
hear it with the orchestra.

- Eamon, did the perm
suit her, did it Eamon?

- And what is your
obsession with pineapple?

In a curry, yes, in an Irish stew, no!

(dramatic music)

- Although listeners, it
breaks my heart to say this,

I'm leaving you!

I've had a great time, but
under the circumstances,

I cannot continue and I really
need to go to the toilet!

- Well, finally it's happened to me

and I get to do the show all on me own.

And you know what?

I'm not gonna regret saying this,

but how hard can it be?

Again, I would like to
apologize to Mrs. Hanratty.

Mrs. Hanratty, you are
the leader of the ICA,

the Irish Countrywomen's
Association, not the IRA.

I would like to apologize
on behalf of myself

and Engardis Giacona, whose brutal beating

was completely, well mostly, unnecessary.

Okay, we'll go to some ads instead.

Ads, where are the ads?

Frank, can you help me?

- We've bigger problems than that, Eamon.

Listen to this.

- [Bridget] Hello, my name is Bridget.

I've left Local FM and I'm
now on a new radio station

called Rival Local FM
which explains all of that.

This is Foster and Allen
with their new, new sound

"Christ, Mary, the
Jumper Really Suits You",

featuring Kraftwerk.

- We have to stop her.

♪ Jumper really suits you ♪

- Sure, we don't even know where

she's broadcasting from, Eamon.

It could be anywhere.

It could be from the highest point

in the next town over or it could be from

the sugar oaks or it could be from

a Russian satellite up into space.

Or it could be from Slago or,
no, not Slago, that's stupid.

(faint music playing)

♪ Christ, Mary, that
jumper really suits you ♪

- Bridget!

- Shite!

(upbeat theme music)

- Later on in the show I'll be chatting

to Father Gabriel and
we'll be discussing who

in the town is definitely going to hell.

And how the new choppy-changy
hairdo isn't for everyone.

Now, if by any chance
you happen to switch back

to Eamon's show, just remember,
he's a big, boring bastard!

Here's White Snake,

"Here I Go Again, On My Own"!

This show was brought to you
by Irish Spring hand soap.

- What do you think you're doing?

- I'm going out on my own.

I don't need you, Eamon.

I even hooked up all this all by myself.

(electric zapping)

With the exception of
a few electrocutions,

and a small-scale fire, easy-peasy!

- You can't have your own show, Bridget!

Firstly, because you're a woman.

And secondly, because you're a woman.

Frank, you go over and hit her

over the head, I'll rip out the desk.

- Sorry I have to do this Bridget,

but could you wish Mrs. Withard
a happy 75th birthday today?

And also a shout out to
my fat cousin, Jimmy.

He loves the show, he loves it.

- Frank, what are you doing?

- Oh sorry, Eamon.

Did you want me to ask her
to say hello to you as well?

- No!

Why would I want her to say hello to me?

I have my own radio station!

- Oh, do you?

- Yes!

You are the one that
came in to me and told me

that Bridget was broadcasting
on Rival Local FM!

- Oh, yeah, she's great.

She's even doing a request
for me now and everything.

- Frank, get over here.

Do you know why I'm giving out to you?

- Yeah.

- [Eamon] Why?

- Because I didn't ask Bridget to

say hello to you on the radio.

- It doesn't matter if
he likes you or not.

He's not even our target audience, which,

by the way, is someone with half

a brain cell and can tie their own shoes.

- It's velcro, I can't tie laces, so...

- This gives me meaning to my life.

No one wants to listen to
me if I'm not on the radio.

- Now you listen to me here, missy.

I'm gonna give you a bit of
a broadcasting lesson, here.

Nobody, and I mean nobody wants to

listen to a woman on the radio.

Not even women like listening
to women on the radio!

They'd much prefer a man,
even if he was shite, any day.

I am going to be so shite
and so useless and people

are going to love me for it, you'll see.

- Oh, it's on.

- Oh, it's on, alright.

- No, the radio, it's still on.

- Yeah, I know it's on.

- No, you... (muttering)

The radio, it's still on!

- Yeah, I knew it was on,
but it's on as well, it's on.

- What?

- Right, everyone stop what
you're doing and listen up.

We're gonna do something here on Local FM

that they've never done on Rival Local FM!

We're gonna give away all the
money in Bridget's handbag.

- That's my purse!

- That's right.

We're gonna give away... 17 pounds!

Where did you get 17 pounds?

- It was children's gin day,

I mean, children's allowance day!

- That's right, listeners,
we're gonna give away 17 pounds.

- The phone is hopping, we've
had two calls already, Eamon,

and only one of them was a wrong number.

- Thank you, Grainne, and
with that I think we can say

it's goodnight on Garvin
and to Rival Local FM.

- Okay, listeners, I'm about
to do an even bigger giveaway.

Ring in now to enter the
draw to win our telly.

- No, you love that TV!

You love criticizing all
the news readers' hair.

- Not as much as you love watching

documentaries about tribes in the Amazon

because the women don't wear any bras!

I'm giving away the telly!

- Those are educational tits!

As you know, here on Local FM,
we do the biggest giveaways.

So right now we're giving
away all of Bridget's clothes.

That's right, all of her
19 identical red dresses

and her Christmas outfit from last year,

which was reviewed in the
parish newsletter as--

- A daring marriage of
post-Colonial gold lame'

and neo-future tweed in a
Frosty the Snowman design,

bought from Dermott Drummond's
Style Corner in Naas.

Hey Eamon, where are you going?

- I'm off to Dermott Drummond's
Style Corner in Naas.

- Hey, wait for me!

- [Both] Dermott Drummond's Style Corner.

- Naas.

- No Eamon, stop it now
before it goes too far!

- We have a caller for the clothes.

- Thank you, Grainne.

That's legally binding now, Bridget!

We do the biggest
giveaways here on Local FM.

- Well, the prizes don't
stop over on Rival Local FM.

I'm giving away a car.

Yes, a blue Ford with three bald tires

and the ingrained smell of Guinness farts.

- Hold on a second, I drive a blue Ford

with three bald tires and the ingrained

smell of Guinness farts.

You wouldn't!

- I just did.

I'm giving your car away to one

lucky listener who can
finish the sentence,

"I'd love a blue secondhand
car that used to be owned

"by that idiot on Local
FM, Eamon because--"

(telephone ringing)

- I apologize for what
I'm about to say here.

If there's elderly relatives
or young people in the room,

please ask them to leave now.

Fuck you, Bridget!

That was my fucking car!

And one of the tires
was only partially worn

and there was a half a
tank of petrol in it!

- Everyone's calling about the car.

We've had three answers already.

- Oh, let's see.

Oh, I'd love a secondhand car that used to

be owned by that idiot on Local FM

because I like cars and corn nettles.

Good answer.

- I like cars.

- Sheila Lonagan from up the road writes,

I'd love a secondhand car that used to

be owned by that idiot on Local FM, Eamon,

because is this the doctors I'd
like to make an appointment.

And the last entry just
says, I don't like Eamon.

(laughs)

We have a winner.

- Right now I'm gonna
do the biggest giveaway

that's ever been done on local radio.

That's right, the biggest
giveaway of all time.

The cutthroat world of radio
and its desperate drive

for listeners and attention
has driven me to this.

We are going to...

- [Both] Give away our house!

I said it first!

(telephone ringing)

- The 100th caller to
ring in wins our house.

But in the meantime,
let's take some music from

a new act called Daniel
O'Donnell with his new single,

"My Heart Is High, But
So Is My Blood Pressure".

(telephone ringing)

Hello, you're caller number 97.

Unfortunately, you haven't
won a real semi-detached house

in the Midlands, but keep
listening to Local FM.

(telephone ringing)

- Hello, you're listening
to Rival Local FM

on the big house giveaway.

I'm sorry, no, but you're number 98.

That's 98 callers in 14 minutes, Eamon.

- I know, we have their
attention now, huh?

Geez, you could kill someone around here

and not get that type of attention.

- Yeah, like that fella you
killed a couple of years ago

in the hit and run nobody noticed.

- I was drunk, Bridget.

And what was an 87 year old
man doing in his front garden

at night if he couldn't avoid a jet ski?

(telephone ringing)

Hello?

Garda Paul, you weren't just listening

to the show there now, were you?

Oh, you were, but you just
wanted to enter the competition.

No, sorry, you're caller 99.

Yeah, yeah, no I can't talk
to you about it now, bye.

- What if nobody rang?

And we had to keep the house?

- Yeah, that'd be terrible, wouldn't it?

Well, for ratings.

- Oh, I would hate that.

Oh, I'd so hate it!

- Yeah, after paying the mortgage

on the house for all those years.

20 years of blood, sweat and tears and not

to give it away for nothing in a promotion

on a radio station that I've
kind of lost interest in.

- Yeah, like, we don't have to do it.

But I want to.

I think.

(telephone ringing)

Shite.

Congratulations, you've
just won the house.

Okay, I'll tell him.

Frank says hello.

- Frank?

- I won!

(kids cheering)

- Oh yeah, you're to keep them as well.

- [Kids] Daddy, daddy, daddy!

- So hold on.

I, I get, I get the house

and I get the children (crying).

Oh my God, I've never had a family.

I always wanted to be a dad.

No, what am I saying?

I always wanted to be the greatest dad.

I wanted to be the best daddy
in the whole wide world.

My mother always said to me,
I wouldn't amount to much,

living in a caravan,
riding the easy roads.

She wouldn't know anything.

Look at me now.

Look at me now, mommy.

This is the greatest day of my life.

I may not be perfect,
but I am an imperfect man

who loves these children and this house,

with both of its radio stations,

perfectly.

(both laughing)

(door slamming)

- That's it, it's over.

Our house gone, our kids
gone, our lives gone.

Is there any reason for us
to stay together, Eamon?

- No, no there isn't, no.

- Oh, okay.

- Gavin Butler, I'm with the

Commission for Communications Regulation.

There has been two illegal radio stations

broadcasting from this address.

I'm here to administer a hefty
fine and arrest the owner.

Is it your house?

- No.

- Sorry, I've stopped listening to you.

- No, no it's a guy called
Frank, he's in there.

(children screaming)

- Oh, thank God that's all over.

- What are we gonna do
with all this stuff?

- Oh, don't worry, that's easy.

I'll just take it apart,
I'll throw it in the lake.

Nobody will see it again and
that explains all of that.

(knocking)

- [Pastor Allen] Hello?

- Oh, shit, that's Pastor Allen.

I booked him in for the two o'clock show.

Freeze, don't move!

- [Pastor Allen] It's Pastor Allen,

were here for the two o'clock show.

- Oh no, don't move Bridget.

- [Pastor Allen] Is there
someone moving around in there?

- I didn't.

- You did move.
- I didn't.

- Don't move, they can smell fear.

- [Pastor Allen] What's that smell?

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