Original subtitles

(# Romantic music)

You know, I've been doing a lot of thinking recently.

Well, I just don't think I'm cut out for the priesthood.

It's time you and I faced facts.

But Father, you're one of the best priests in the country,

if not the best.

Assumpta, Assumpta, Assumpta... Why are we running from this?

You know what I'm talking about, don't you?

Yeah. Yeah, I... I suppose I do.

I'll be off, then.

I said, I'll...

— Yeah, bye. — Yeah, bye.

Come here, you!

— Ted! Ted! — Oh! What?! What?!

Would you like a peanut?

A peanut? You woke me to offer me a peanut?

— God, Dougal! — Oh, sorry, Ted.

Go to bed.

Now, where were we?

(Panting)

(Peanuts growling)

(Helicopter)

(Crash)

Ready? Here we go.

One... two... three!

Hey!

— They on? — They are, Ted. Oh, wait, now.

— What? — They've gone off.

That's it, they're back! No, they're gone again.

No, keep it like that... no. That's it, Ted, you're a genius!

Gone again. Right, back. Gone.

Back. Gone. Back. Gone. Back.

Dougal! Just sit down.

Can I open another window on the Advent calendar?

All right. But remember, only today's window.

Oh! A shepherd! Great! Fantastic stuff!

— Can I not open the other two? — No, Dougal.

God, I can't wait to find out tomorrow's one.

I bet it's a donkey or something.

So you changed from your initial prediction? What was it?

Ruud Gullit sitting on a shed, wasn't it?

God Almighty, where do you get these things?

I'd say it's probably a lovely angel.

What would you say, Father Jack?

A pair of feckin' women's knickers!

— Well, who knows? — KNICKERS!

— Yes, Father. — WOMEN'S KNICKERS!

Yes, Father, yes! Message understood.

God Almighty. Dougal! Leave the calendar until tomorrow.

There.

Ah, dear. Another year gone. It's hard to believe, isn't it?

I mean, what's it all about, Dougal?

It doesn't really have a story, it's just about football and stuff.

No, Dougal, I mean life.

You slave away for your parishioners, and what do you get?

A one-way ticket to Palookaville.

(Sighing) You know, I looked in the mirror this morning

and saw a middle-aged, grey-haired man staring at me.

Who was that, Ted?

— Me, Dougal! — Oh, yes, of course.

I got a Christmas card from Father Jess Flafhern.

He's in Montana. He makes $50,000 a year and 2,000 in tips.

Brilliant. How does he manage that?

I don't know. Lap dancing or something.

Father Buzz Dolan in Canada, he has his own show on cable

and he's landed a bit part in the new Bond movie.

It started with that Golden Cleric award.

Wow.

Must be great to be famous. You know what I'd love?

People listen to what you have to say. And I have a lot to say.

What about your sermons? People listen to you then.

No, Dougal. I mean people I respect.

I suppose the...

(Both talk at once)

You see? Even you don't listen to me.

— I do. That's not fair. — Well, I...

(Both talk at once)

So, Father, are you looking forward to Christmas?

I am indeed, Mrs Doyle. A nice, quiet Christmas, that's what I want.

A nice, quiet Christmas, no unusual incidents or people turning up,

that would suit me.

A nice, quiet, normal, everyday Christmas.

(Doorbell)

Oh, there's the door.

(Baby cries)

I'm sorry, is this Mrs Riley's house?

No, that's just down the road.

Oh, thanks very much.

Who was that, Ted?

Just some woman looking for Riley's house. She had a baby.

For a moment I thought somebody had left it on our doorstep.

God, imagine what would've happened if she had.

(Laughs) Yes.

We'd have been looking after it and getting into hilarious jams.

It would've been very, very funny.

It wouldn't have been that funny, Ted.

Actually, no.

(Man) And the liquids come out here.

You've already selected milk and sugar, so the work is taken out,

leaving the modern woman time for running a business, or skiing.

Flick a switch and it can access coffee, hot chocolate or Horlicks.

Teamaster takes the misery out of making tea. What do you think?

Maybe I like the misery.

I thought some perfume for Mrs Doyle.

Good idea. Perfume is the ideal woman present, isn't it?

Yes, that's why God invented it.

You don't have to put any thought into it whatsoever.

Where did you put Jack in the end?

There's this place for people who don't want to go shopping.

They just stay and have a laugh.

Really? Were there other people there?

Loads, Ted. He'll be fine.

Perfume, perfume...

You think you'd be able to smell it.

Where exactly are we now?

Well, we're in the... in the... Oh, God! We're in Lingerie!

We're in Lingerie!

— What's the problem? — Think, Dougal.

Two priests hanging around ladies' secret things.

It just doesn't look good.

Where is the exit?

God, we're in Bras. This way.

More underpants. Why do they need so many kinds of underpants?

Do they parade around looking in mirrors all the time?

Billy! Terry!

Ted! Ted Crilly. How are you?

Good to see you. We got lost, that's why we're here.

Got lost. I suppose that's why you're here as well.

— Lost? Uh, yeah. That's it. — That's right. We were lost.

Do you know the way out?

It's Ireland's biggest lingerie section, I understand.

— Really? — Yeah, I read that... somewhere.

The best idea is for us to get out of here, quickly.

You know, four priests, hanging round the, um, frilly section.

— Yes, I see what you mean. — Let's try this way.

Wait, we've been here, I remember these bras from the first time.

They all look the same to me.

These ones have double padding, black lace outline,

and the extra strength straps.

If we pass one with single padding and the white lace outline,

— we're on the right track. — Someone's coming.

Ted Crilly? God, are we glad to see you!

We were looking for the toilets and wandered in by mistake.

— How do we get out? It's huge! — It's Ireland's biggest.

Right, we have eight priests hanging around the lingerie.

One or two is embarrassing but eight is national scandal.

What'll we do? All the aisles look the same!

Don't panic. We're in this, let's get out of it.

OK, Billy, I want you on point. Fathers, you take the back.

And keep it quiet!

(# Tense music)

(Tropical birds and insects chirping)

(Whispering) OK. Hang in there. Shape up, OK?

I thought I heard someone. Maybe I'm going crazy.

I've been in this damn lingerie section so long!

Shh. Wait.

I don't think they saw us. You take a rest, Father.

Father Riley, you go on point.

You OK, Father Deegan?

There's no way out. There's just no way out! They're gonna get us!

They're gonna get us!

— Damn it, Deegan. — Sorry... I...

Hang on. You've got to expect this kind of thing in the priesthood.

I only left the seminary two weeks ago.

I'll never get a decent parish! They'll send me to some bloody kip!

— (Sobbing) What we gonna do? — Listen.

I'll make you a promise — one day we'll be in your new parish,

sipping iced tea on the lawn, and this will all be just a memory.

Can you hold on to that thought? Can you do that for me?

Good man.

(Screaming)

Father Cleary, what happened?

I was messing about with one of these bras

and a strap flew back and hit me in the eye.

Oh! I think I've twisted my ankle as well.

Let's get you up.

It's my stupid fault for messing with the bras.

You go on, I'll only slow you down.

Listen, we're a team, we're sticking together. Come on.

(Children) Feck! Feckin' feck! Arse!

Arse! Feck! Bastard!

(Children continue cursing)

— There's the exit. — Thank God.

— All those people. — They'd definitely see us.

Maybe if you buy some underpants it wouldn't look so strange?

They're women's underpants.

— Oh, yeah. Sorry. — (Bored man on PA) 'Lady shoppers.

'Gifts for husbands, like pipes, are on the first floor.'

Come here.

— Who's got the most boring voice? — What?

Of the lot of us, the most boring voice.

(In monotone) That'd be me, Ted.

I have an awful, dreary, monotonous voice, God help me.

Yes, yes. Listen.

(Vivaciously) Ted! Were you asking for a dramatic, exciting voice?

No, he said boring, he wanted a boring voice.

In that case, excuse me for my impetuous interruption!

Listen. This is what we'll do.

— What's goin" on? — I think Ted has a plan.

No, I mean, in general?

We're trying to find our way out of the lingerie section.

Oh.

(Amplified) 'Ladies and gentlemen,

'please bring your purchases to the checkout,

'as the store is about to close.

'Hurry up. Come on. Hurry up, will ye?'

'Not that way, for feck's sake! The other way!

'Move!'

Go! Go! Go!

Ohh.

What's wrong, Dougal?

It's just three lads pointing at a star. A bit disappointing.

Why?

What's that got to do with Christmas?

There's nothing in the Catholic Scandal Supplement

about the lingerie episode.

(Phone)

Hello? Craggy Island Parochial House.

Father Ted Crilly speaking.

— (# Dance music) — Ted. Tom McCaskell here.

Phew. Hello, Tom. How are you? Where are you? You left in a hurry.

— I'm in Rome. — When are you back?

When things die down. I might head off to South America for a while.

You know she's writing a bloody book?

Ah, no, that's not fair.

Did they ever catch up with you about that Lourdes thing?

That looked a wee bit dodgy...

Let me stop you right there, Tom.

That money was just resting in my account.

— Ooh-hoo! — Shut up, Dougal!

Anyway, we owe you for getting the lads out of trouble the other day.

We'd like you to have a Golden Cleric.

A Golden Cleric?

— You're not serious? — Deadly serious.

I don't feel worthy when I think of the other priests who've won it.

Alberto! Alberto, please!

You deserve it. You averted a very tricky situation,

and prevented another scandal in the Church.

Father Billy will drop the award over tomorrow.

Sorry about this, but is there, um, any cash prize with that?

I'm afraid not, Ted. We're a bit strapped for cash at the moment.

Anyway, see you soon.

(Cheering and drumming on phone)

(Cheering)

Dougal, fantastic news.

— You're getting married? — No, I'm not...

— Is that a joke? — Er, yeah.

No, I'm being given... a Golden Cleric award!

Waaay!

I'll have to write a speech. It's not every day you win an award.

— (Jack) AWARD? — No, you can't have an award.

Why not? Award! Award! Award!

— Yes, Father. Yes, Father! — Award! Award! Award!

— There you are. — Right. Photo! Photo!

Dougal, take a photograph.

Ted, can I stay up tomorrow to watch the scary film?

No. After the last scary film, you had to sleep in my bed.

It wasn't even that scary a film.

Come on, Ted. A Volkswagen with a mind of its own?

Driving all over and going mad?

If that's not scary, what is?

Dougal, it's a children's film!

How will you take a film about a burglar who kills everybody?

— Is that what this one's about? — Yes!

(# Cheesy pop music)

(Man on TV) 'If you want to meet priests your own age,

'listen in on the latest gossip,

'or simply have a bit of a laugh,

'then call Priest Chatback, and speak to priests you want to know.'

Right, I got the presentation case for my award.

Great, Ted. Fantastic.

I think I'll put it here, over the creaky floorboard.

If any robbers try to rob my award, we'll hear them.

Very few priests get this award, you know.

I'll be one of the top priests in the country.

Oh, right.

Did you hear? One of the top priests in the country. Did you hear?

I did, yeah.

Well, it's not before time, Father.

I always thought you were one of the best in the country.

Thank you, Mrs Doyle.

One of the best, or maybe the best?

Go on, honestly, would you say I'm the best priest in the country?

Well...

If you don't think so, just say so. I honestly won't mind.

I'd say you might be... the second best.

I mean...

No, it's all right. I'm not the best in the country.

There's somebody better than me, apparently.

I was thinking of those priests who work in very poor areas.

Yes, those lads. Father Archbishop Desmond Tutu and the likes.

Well, I think Archbishop Tutu is a Protestant man.

Oh, right, oh, great. So a Protestant is better than me?

No, no need to continue this. I'm not the best... just second best.

The Golden Cleric is a runner-up prize.

Well, I'm so sorry.

Obviously I'm just an idiot who can't even say Mass!

— Father, I... — No! That's what you said.

You said I'm not the best. Fine. I just want to know where I stand.

— Now I'll have to jack it in. — What?!

— I'm leaving the priesthood. — But, Father...

No! I'm going to write and ask for early retirement,

then you can ask Father Peter Perfect the perfect priest to come here,

and you can work for him, since he's obviously such a great priest!

(# Reflective piano music)

(Mrs Doyle, echoing) 'Second best priest... second best priest...

'second best priest... second best priest...'

Sorry about that!

Feckin' eejit! Wait there till I get ya!

Wait till I get you now, you little pup!

(Mrs Doyle) 'I'd say you might be the second best priest.

"The second best priest... The second best priest...'

(Garbled voices and laughter)

'You're just the second best priest in the country...'

(TV) '...and speak to priests you want to know.'

(Man) 'Welcome to Priest Chatback.

'If you're under 18 or not a priest, please hang up now.

'To speak about the Pope's visit to Mexico, say "yes" now.'

(Beep)

'To speak about being vaguely unhappy but not able to figure out why,

'say yes now.'

— Wait! Yes! Hello? — (All) Hello?

Is that being vaguely unhappy but not able to figure out why?

— No, it's breaking news of a death. — We're talking about techniques.

I say it's best to get it over with.

"Your husband's dead. He's not coming back. Get used to it."

Yes, but sometimes a few little hints help.

"Remember how your husband used to love a good laugh?”

My problem is, I should be on top of the world because of my award...

(Groaning and laughing)

Stupid priests! Duh!

— Have some respect. — This is a priest-only line.

— Are you priests? — You bunch of wankers.

Father, while you were out for your walk we had a phone call.

I think you were supposed to do a funeral today.

The funeral! I completely forgot!

It's all right. Father McGuire said he'd do it.

That's OK, then.

Dougal's doing a funeral?! You let Dougal do a funeral?!

Sorry about that.

(Dougal grunting and panting) Oh, damn. It's no use.

I'm so excited about Christmas I can't sleep.

You'll never get to sleep like that.

You'd have a better chance if you got off the bike.

Oh, right. What are you up to yourself, Ted?

Writing my speech for tomorrow. It's brilliant so far.

What do you put? You'd normally thank everybody.

Not in this case. You see, I got this award through hard graft,

so there's nobody to thank except myself.

Actually, good idea, I'll thank myself.

Wow, is that the speech?

No, these are just the notes, really.

See here, for example, this is a list of people

who've really fecked me over down the years.

Father Jimmy Fennel. He really needs taking down a peg or two.

Father PJ Clabbert. Oh, wait, he's on the wrong list.

He should be under "Liars" rather than "Twats".

At last I get a chance to shine, to stand out.

To be recognised.

I recognise you. Look, it's Ted.

No, I mean recognition of my abilities, of my achievements.

Oh, right. And what achievements are these?

(Dog barks outside)

Shut up, Dougal.

Hope Larry Duff's coming.

I'll give him a call.

Hope he makes it. Larry's tremendous fun.

He loves award ceremonies.

(Mobile rings)

Oh! Ooh! Oh, my leg! Ow!

Oh, Jesus! Mother of God! Ohh!

Wait now, he's on holidays. Well, I won't disturb him.

Anyway, I'm gonna try and get to sleep one more time.

Ahh! It's no use.

Dougal, here's a way. Try and empty your head of all thoughts.

I'll give it a go, but I don't think...

Oh, yes.

Ah, brilliant! A load of people in a stable, Ted!

The one thing I didn't expect!

Dougal, aren't you going to open your presents?

Oh, wow!

Presents! I completely forgot about the presents.

First the calendar, now presents. It can't get any better!

Ah, brilliant!

Happy Christmas, Mrs Doyle.

Oh, Father, you shouldn't have. What is it?

It's a...

You know, I thought, "What would Mrs Doyle love for Christmas?”

Something to take the misery out of making tea.

The days of housekeepers making tea are over.

We can't live in the Dark Ages.

You've made your last cup of tea in this house.

(Quietly) Thank you, Father.

(Silent)

If I know people the way I think I do, she really loved that present.

(Dougal) Ah, brilliant, Ted!

I mean, how did you know?

Don't think I hadn't noticed those little hints you left around.

Present! Present! Present!

Present! Present! Come on, come on, come on!

— Happy Chr... — Feck off!

(Doorbell)

Who could that be? Ceremony's not until two.

Father, it's...

Ted!

Hello there.

— I haven't missed it, have I? — No, not at all.

You haven't changed a bit, you rascal!

And er... And you, look at you. You haven't changed either!

What? What about the hair?

Right, well, the hair, it's a different... shape.

— Colour! — Colour, yes, of course!

It used to be... red... brown!

Blonde!

— Hello there. — Hello there you back.

— He's told you all about me? — No. Who are you?

Who am I? (Laughs)

Who is he?

Hey, tell you what, stick the old name and address in the book.

Especially the name. Important you write very, very clearly.

I'd love to but I can't really write.

One time I was running with scissors and I fell,

and the nerve that controls handwriting was severed.

Father, are you not going to introduce me to the new Father?

Oh, right. Of course.

Actually, see if you can guess.

Guess?

Go on, have a go.

God, Father, sure, it could be anything.

Still, though, give it a try.

Father Andy Riley?

No.

Father Desmond Coyne?

Father George Byrne?

Father David Nicholson.

Father Dick Linlidge.

— I'll give you a clue. - NO CLUES!

I'll get it in a second. Father Ken Sweeney?

Father Neil Hannon? Father Keith Cullen?

Father Kieran Donnelly? Father Mick McAvoy?

Father Jack White?

Father Henry Bigbigging?

Father Hank Tree?

Father Hiroshima Twinkie?

Father Stig Bobblecurd?

Father Johnny Hellzapoppin? Father Luke Duke?

Father Billy Fury?

Father Chewie Louie?

Father John Hoop?

Father Harry Cake-Lyneham?

Father Raboola Conundrum?

Father Peewee Stairmaster? Father Tight Egglips?

Father Jemima Ragtoole?

Father Jerry Twigg?

Father Spodo Commodo? Father Canner Brammerlammer?

— Father Todd Unctious? — Yes! Well done!

— Is that it? Did she get it? — Ted, you knew already.

Of course, I was just amazed she got it in... well under an hour.

Well done, Mrs Doyle.

So, Todd, eh? Todd, Todd, Todd. Old Todd.

There you are now, Todd! Good old Todd.

How you getting on there, Todd?

How are you fixed for tea, Todd? Or would you prefer a hot toddie?

Anything you want, Todd. Anything at all, Todd. Todd.

What time is the ceremony, Ted?

Well, Todd, it's not really a ceremony, just a simple affair.

(PA) 'One-two, two-two-two. Test mike one-two."

Two-two-two. We're getting mad feedback here, Sharon. Sharon.

Excited, Ted?

Well... yes.

Something to tell the grandchildren about.

— You need to bring it up faster. — You'll need to cue me.

OK, no problem. So...

(Both) Up... look... down.

(Choir sings)

(Man) Dominus albe turum.

Tell you what, change the "Dominus” to "Canus".

Go, go. I'm sorry, what's your name?

— Sean. — Sean.

Sorry, but I need you there on the day.

A second or two and I'm dead here.

— Is anybody organised here? — Talk to that priest there.

So, lads, when the rhythm kicks in

and the song reveals itself through the counter-rhythm,

I want you there and ready, OK?

Anyhow, where's Todd?

Who's Ted and who's Dougal?

I'm Ted and that's Dougal.

No, I'm Dougal, he's Ted.

— We need you over by the stage. — Right.

Why does he need you by the stage? He must mean me!

Up... look... down.

— Ted? Dick Mayo. — Hello.

— Congratulations. — Thank you.

Ted, ever thought of doing any television work?

It had crossed my mind.

— Do you have an agent? — No.

Give this lady a call.

She's done wonders for me. Well done, man.

Right.

(Snoring)

(Snorting)

(Snoring)

(Floorboard creaks)

Drink!

Drink, drink, drink, drink, DRINK, DRINK...

(Fading) ...drink ...drink ...drink.

Good afternoon, and welcome to the 5th Annual Golden Cleric.

Every year the Catholic Church gives an award to a priest

for outstanding achievement.

This year's winner has overcome controversy in the past,

when rumours of financial irregularities threatened...

No! No!

But following an investigation, no formal charges were made.

The money was just resting there!

Though authorities were confused by

BIZARRE IRREGULARITIES IN HIS ACCOUNTS!

Enough of that now!

He's overcome this to become this year's Golden Cleric.

Ladies and gentlemen, Father Ted Crilly!

I hope he doesn't start going on, settling old scores in public.

Well...

Well, well, well.

I, uh... I see some familiar faces here today.

Some welcome, some not so welcome.

It looks as if I've had the last laugh on a lot of people

who didn't think I could become a brilliant priest.

What I say to them is, "Look at me now".

...but eventually I got out of his headlock

and now where are you, Father Eamonn Hunter?

working with pygmies in the South Seas. And where am I?

Here, accepting a Golden Cleric award for being a top priest!

Yes, of course! He thought it'd be a great idea, great fun

to pour water on this young novice's mattress.

But, of course, 30 years later,

the smile has been very much wiped off Father Barry Kiernan's face.

And now, we move on to "Liars".

Father Peter Thornton.

Father Desmond Kearnes. Remember him?

— Well, um... Great speech, Ted. — It went well, didn't it?

And you mean to say you was wandering around in there for three hours?

Yes. It's Ireland's biggest lingerie section, I understand.

Tea for everyone!

Right. No, Mrs Doyle, put that away and relax, we'll try the Teamaster.

— How does it work? — Can I not just put the milk in?

You leave the cup there, slide in a cartridge and tea comes out.

Fantastic.

Now that I've won an award, I can't be seen drinking tea made in a pot.

The idea!

(In monotone) It just seems too good to be true. What's the catch?

I'm sorry, Father, your voice is so boring

I couldn't concentrate on what you said.

Well, I do have an incredibly boring voice.

I was just saying... what's the catch?

Sorry, didn't get it there either.

(Animated) Ted! I've been thinking! About the Teamaster!

There must be some sort of a catch!

What? Oh, there's no catch. No, just watch this.

(Loud whirring)

(Whirring stops)

You see? Perfect.

(Shouts)

Father, actually there's someone...

— WHAT? — Are you all right, Father?

(Breathlessly) Yes. But it's actually quite hard to breathe!

— Just... — WHAT?

— I really am finding it... — Get up.

— WHAT? — Dougal! Put on that music!

— What? — The music that makes Jack stand up!

(Jack) WHAT?

(# La Marseillaise)

Sorry about that.

Up! Up! Up!

Father Jack likes us all to stand up when that bit of music comes on.

(Jack) Up!

SING! SING!

(All sing incoherently)

(Off-key, confused singing)

Again! Again!

Father, have a go at this with me.

Get him away!

— No, Father, it's just a bit of fun. — AARRRH!

Yes, we thought Jack was jumping through that window too often.

That's why we put in the Plexiglas.

Anyway. My speech. What did you think?

— Let's watch the Christmas film! — (All) Yeah!

(Man on TV) 'That was Indiana Jones.

'And now a special extended Latin Mass from St Martin's in Dublin.'

Oh, great. Mass.

(Dreary incantations on TV)

God, I'm supposed to be doing something terribly important.

The thing I'm supposed to be doing, I just remembered...

I've gotta telephone this fella on Death Row that I befriended.

Because he's being executed tomorrow. For mass murder.

So I'd say he's pretty low at the moment.

God Almighty. Did he do it?

I dunno. Yes. No! Yes!

Do you want any help? He might get hysterical and start crying,

and I could say, "Pull yourself together, man!”

There's been a big accident, so I should go too.

I got a phone call there... while you were all...

...somewhere else.

— So... — Right, so, we're all off.

Father Unctious, you coming too?

No, I'll stay awhile.

Oh, great! Mass!

Father Alton Crosby is doing it. I'm a huge fan of his.

— He gives good Mass. — He what?

He really knows how to work the altar.

Look at that chalice work. Effortless.

We'll be off, so. See you all soon.

— See you. — God bless.

Bye!

Thanks for coming to the award ceremony where I got my award!

(Incantations continue on TV)

(TV) 'Now on BBC1, the director's cut of Jurassic Park,

'with extra dinosaurs.'

Well, that was a fantastic day (!)

It was brilliant. Fantastic fun. One of the best Christmas Days ever.

Dougal, I was being sarcastic.

Oh, right. So was I.

And who's that Todd Unctious? I didn't invite him, did you?

No, I barred you from inviting people over

after that tramp stayed a week when I was away.

That wasn't a tramp, that was the Prime Minister of France.

No, Dougal, he just lied to you.

Todd Unctious, I don't remember him at all Who the hell is he?

Maybe he had a nickname, like Terry Wogan.

Terry Wogan? What's his nickname?

What? You mean, that's his real name?

Anyway, he'll be gone in the morning.

(Knocking)

— There you are! — Hello there.

Look at you lying in there like a big eejit.

Well, here we all are, now, all the lads.

Just like in the old days, eh?

Remember the fun we used to have in the showers?

Do you still have the big old hairy arse?

Fluff, Todd. That wasn't hair, that was a bit of downy fluff.

Ah, God. Memories.

Remember you all mitched off to the Dana concert?

I couldn't go because I was recovering from a car accident.

Did I show you the scar?

There you are.

— See that crescent shape? — God, yes.

And that series of indentations along the inner thigh?

— That's really, really... — They run up to me groin.

Let's go to the pictures, I fancy a good film!

Ah, Ted, it's half one in the morning.

You sleep, I was just wandering around.

Sometimes I can't sleep, I need a good walk to calm meself.

— You don't mind? — No, no.

All right, so. Good night.

And...

Happy Christmas, Ted.

God Almighty. We're not going out of this room until tomorrow.

I don't want to risk bumping into that weirdo in his nudieness.

Good night, Dougal.

(Floorboard creaks)

(Footsteps)

— Get away from that award! — FECK OFF!

It's just you, Father.

Listen, turn off the light after you and...

(please, don't slam the door.)

Oh! God! Jesus!

(Rumbling in distance)

Ahhhh! God!

(Screaming)

(Whirring)

(Scuffling outside)

(Fizzing and sizzling)

(Whirring)

(Clatter on stairs)

(Winch whirrs and jams)

— 'What's wrong, MacKenzie?' — 'There's a burglar in the house.'

— 'What?' — 'He may be hiding in this room.'

'A burglar? In the room, you say? My God.'

'It's safe to say the burglar is definitely in the room.'

— 'But where?" — 'There he is!

— 'There!' — Ahhhhhhh!

Oh, Dougal. Dougal, you'll have nightmares.

(Screams on TV)

(Whirring)

Dougal, I thought I told you not to watch that film.

Ted, no, I wasn't watching it. I came to, uh, carry the milk around.

Go on, Dougal, up to bed with you.

Hello, your Holiness.

President Robinson, well done on everything.

(Whirring)

Mr De Niro. Bob, Bob. I loved you in Godfather II.

Todd... (Chuckling)

(Echoes) Ahhhhhh!

He won't be doing any more burglaries where he's going.

— Where's that? — Well, prison!

Yes, of course. Sorry.

— How did he know so much about me? — I'm curious about that myself.

— Unctious, if that's your real name. — I already told you it wasn't.

How did you know so much about Father Crilly?

— Is this off the record? — Of course!

Well, I was in Selridge a few days ago,

got talking to this old priest in a bar.

'He was cagey at first,

'but a few shots of JD and he was singin' like a bird.'

The Golden Cleric, they call it.

Giving it to an old pal of mine, Ted Crilly.

Met him on Dollyman Strand.

(Unctious) 'As I listened, a plan formed in my head.

'We drank long into the night, me payin', of course.

'Him spillin' his guts on the subject of a certain Father Ted Crilly.'

He got a mane of white hair, kinda like you get on a mule.

Used to wet the bed at St Colum's.

Big hairy ass.

'The longer he talked, the better it got.'

Lives with a pig-ignorant old-timer named Jack Hackett,

and a poor strange idiot-boy... named McGuire.

'After that, all I needed was the right costume.'

Goddamn housekeeper. What a pain in the ass.

Ah, perfect.

But you're a priest. Why...?

It's a long story. I used to be like you.

A completely average, bog-standard, run-of-the-mill cleric.

Then I won the County Westmead Priest of the Year Competition.

Guess it went to my head.

After that I started hitting the altar wine too hard.

Goin' easy on people in confession.

Gettin' backhanders for doing quicker Masses.

AIL I wanted was trophies and prizes.

But the one that got me was the Golden Cleric.

No, no, Todd. I mean, you're a priest.

Why did you take the OTHER priest's clothes?

I don't know. It was just going that way.

Well, I've got bad news for you, so-called Todd Unctious.

That wasn't off the record! I'm using that as evidence against you!

Oh, that's completely unfair!

Take him away.

(Ted) Thanks, Sergeant.

There'll be a reward in this, Father.

You both should be very proud of yourselves.

A reward. Not such a bad day after all.

Well done, Fathers. Now.

That's a handy old thing you have there, Mrs Doyle.

Modern technology. It's brilliant.

It is indeed. And thanks again, Father.

It's the best Christmas present ever.

— What about the tea machine? — Oh...

Yes.

I'll crank it up right now.

(Uneven whirring)

(Machine chokes, spits and dies)

I don't like the sound of that. we'll have to get it fixed.

Oh, no, Father. Don't, please!

What?

Father, I love the whole tea-making thing.

You know, the playful splash of the tea

as it hits the bottom of the cup.

The thrill of adding the milk, watching it settle for a moment,

before it filters slowly down,

changing the colour from dark brown to...

a lighter brown.

Perching an optional Jaffa Cake on the saucer,

like a proud soldier standing to attention beside a giant...

cup of tea.

Just think, Father, remember all the great times we had,

when I used to make the tea?

(# Uplifting music)

— Tea, Father? — Great.

— Tea, Father? — Thanks, Mrs Doyle.

— Tea, Father? — Great!

You're right, Mrs Doyle.

Tea out of a machine is like milk out of a baby's bottle.

The baby doesn't want a bottle, he wants it out of his mother's...

Anyway...

Why don't you go and make us a normal cup of tea?

Right-o, Father.

And don't you worry,

it'll be tea-riffic!

"Tea-riffic". Bloody hell, Dougal.

You know, the priesthood, it's not about awards and glamour.

It's about hard graft and the needs of your parishioners.

That Todd Unctious fella, that could've been me.

Really? Ahh, that explains a lot.

No, I don't think you picked up on what I meant.

— (Phone) — I could have been a bad priest.

Lazy, arrogant, not giving a damn about my parishioners.

Ted, Mrs Gilcuddy wants you to do a Remembrance Mass.

— I'm not in. — He's not in. OK, bye.

Dougal, I'm sorry about my recent silliness.

You know, you deserve this award as much as me.

Really? Thanks, Ted. That's great. Thanks.

— Why don't we leave it in the case? — Oh, you better, I suppose.

And my name, we won't change that.

All right. I know it's mine, that's good enough for me.

Yeah. I'm going to go have a bath, help me calm down.

OK.

(Manic laughter)

(Ted) Dougal?

What are you doing?

Just having a bit of a laugh.