All language subtitles for Letterkenny.S09E06_English

You were having
a Puppers with your pals
the other day...

Too much Instagrams'll make
your eyes go square, Dary.

- I'm workin' here.
- Oh, Dary's like a blister.

He only shows up
when the work's all done.

It's not Instagram.
I'm flippin' through Twitter.

Well, less doin' tweets,
more pullin' teats, bud.

Speaking of teats,
you guys heard about

this Twitter account
called Gay Hooters?

Gay Hooters?

Gay Hooters.

But-- Gay Hooters?

Well, that's what I said.
I said, Gay Hooters.

Is that right?

Guess I'm just
sorta wonderin'

what Gay Hooters
would be all about?

Well, if I was to make
an educated guesstimation,

I'd have to say it's like
the controversial yet famous

American restaurant
franchise Hooters,

except for gay guys.

So, it's like a Hooters,

but marketed
to gay men aged 18-35?

Boy howdies!

I guess I just got
a few more questions though.

Well, you're handy
as a shirt pocket, bud.

Well, all I'm wondering
is, like...

what do a group of gay men
have to enjoy about Hooters?

We's talkin' the restaurants
or the body parts?

- Here we go now.
- Well, no.

I'm just thinkin' it
sounds a little bit queer--

Easy, tiger!

--that you would have to sell
the gay community on Hooters?

Sell? Sold.

- Huh?
- Gay dudes love tits.

- Is that right?
- Most of us, yeah.

- Well, to be fairs--
- (Mockingly) To be fair--

- To be fair--
- To be fair--

♪ To be fair, yeah ♪

(In deep British accent)
To be fair...

it's hard to imagine
anyone not likin' 'em,

no matter which ways you
points your sexuals compass.

So, you guys love tits
as much as you love dinks?

Fuck, no!
We're straight guy gay.

Strictly guy gay,
for clarificaysh.

Gettin' good and gay
in guy gash.

- Smashin' silly ass.
- Gettin' kinky with
the dinky.

Gettin' stinky
with the dinky.

In sync. With dink.

- Is that right?
- But you also love tits.

What's not to love?

Yeah, lots of gay dudes
secretly love tits.

Big, bouncy, fun-lovin',
party time tits.

Big ol' buoyant, jubly,
sloppy egg yolk knocks.

Bounce those snake-eyed
humpty dumplings over here,

honey, let's have
a good one.

Talkin' Bobbsey Twin
baby thumpers

rubber baby buggy bumpers.

Is that right?

I think
I have an idea.

Well, you might as well gets
'em all outs on the table.

What if-- okay,

what if the food
was also gay?

Oh, I got Professor Tricia
on speed dial

ready for this
hot takes.

No, no,
hear him out.

Okay, so, the chickens that
you get the chicken
wings from,

what if they were also
gay chickens?

A boy chicken's
called a cock.

So, what you're suggesting
is that Gay Hooters

is a place for mens
to go eat gay cocks.

BOTH: In.

Free-range chickens
is hard enough to breeds.

Yeah, so it would be
a Hooters restaurant

marketed to gay men aged
18-35 where they could go

and enjoy some fried food,

but also some eye-level
eye candy.

I'd rather have
a dog's eye view.

Dog's eye
view of a dink.

- Dink's eye view.
- Dink in the eye.

In sync with dink.

Oh, is that right?

(Theme song playing)

♪

Did yous hear
Sir Bill's closed?

Oh, bother.
Well, there's nothin' worse

than a mom and pop shop
goin' under in a small town.

KATY:
Why'd they bust?

Sir Bill's was
the best breakfast--

- Attaboy.
--in Letterkenny,

until MoDean's started
serving brunch.

Now nobody goes
to Sir Bill's.

I heard some talk that they was
late payin' their merchants.

Well, late payment's the first
sign you're goin' tits up.

See, I always thought
that MoDean's and Sir Bill's
should combine.

Breakfast spot by day,
bang-up spot by night.

Woulda, shoulda,
coulda.

If "ifs" and "buts"
were candies and nuts.

Not much room for competition
in a small town.

You need
customer loyalty.

(Scoffing)
Loyalty, eh?

I said it wrong,
didn't I?

Loyalty is two things:

number A, a crucial practice
in any relationship

and number B,
a fuckin' dying art.

Well, Gail's gonna need
our loyalty because I heard

there is one of those big city
chain restaurants moving in.

Oh! Harvey's?

No.

- Tacso Bells?
- Nope.

- St. Hubert?
- Nope.

It's one of those places
that's always on

about their casual fine dining.
(Smarmy chuckling)

ALL:
Ew.

It's one of those places
that focuses

on upscale comfort food.
(Chuckling)

ALL:
Ew.

One of those places
that's always on
about their gastro fare.

ALL:
Ew!

Although, there are, um,

there are, um, perks
to those sorts of places?

(Giggling)

Some might say...
(Giggling)

...the perkiest!

It's wheres you go
if you like some perkies!

Yous are degens.

- Breastaurants.
- BOYS: Yoo!

One of those places where
you're not payin' for the G&T,

you're paying
for the T&A.

Short skirts, full bras,
can't lose.

- That's their motto!
- Grow up.

With all due respect,
Miss Katy,

Professor Tricia says
it's perfectly ethical

for womens to be
as sexual as they want,

including wearing clothes
what makes them feel powerful.

It's not the women
who work there

that I have
a problem with.

They can get theirs,
and I am here for it.

It's the leering men
that really chap my ass.

The male gaze.

Male gays?
You mean like Dax and Ron?

Fuck, you are
on fuckin' fire, eh?

I've got more time
for clogged toilets.

- Where you goin'?
- To be a loyal customer.

Yous wanna go be
loyal customers?

I'ds be a loyal customer.

I'm surprised we're not being
loyal customers right now.

To MoDean's!

(Dance music playing)

Stewart!

Have you heard this new
Neapolitan funk compilation?

(Gagging noises)

(Coughing)

You phonographic
Philistine!

Neapolitan funk
was yesteryear's genre.

You know very well
that I am fully immersed

in the Nigerian
Neurofolk movement.

But I thought that you said
Neapolitan funk was

the sound of the revolution
because it blended in

perfectly with your
Baile funk collection?

You're thinking Baggy Trance
and Biafra Psychobilly, Roald!

Is Baggy Trance the one
that's heavily influenced

by mid-century word jazz--
(Stammering)

--and the Hungarian
underground top 40?

(Incredulous
wheezing laughter)

I'm gonna pretend
you didn't even say that.

You can't be mad at me for
not being up on your weapons
as of late.

I mean, you haven't DJ'd a gig
in what feels like years.

(Grunting)

(Sputtering)

I am fully aware
of my dry spell, Roald.

However, I plan to be the pole
holding up the circus tent

at Letterkenny's
latest venue...

the breastaurant.

I love tits.

Just imagine all
the ground-breaking styles

I can literally bring
to the tables

of the masticating masses
beyond the standard,

bland restaurantica.

You are ten times the fyah
selectah of any restaurant DJ.

I mean, half of them think
it's still 2005

and play mashups.

(All gagging)

Mashups are a cardinal sin
in the DJ realm.

I have no time for MP3s
titled Fleetwood Macklemore.

Or the Rolling
Stone Roses.

Meredith Brooks
N Dunn.

Barry White Zombie.

James Taylor Swift.

KC and the Sunshine
Band of Horses.

Olivia Newton
John Mayer.

Rage Against
the Miami Sound Machine.

Rage Against Florence
and the Machine.

Fugazi Osbourne.

Shadowy Men on a
Shadowy Phantom Planet.

I Mother Earth,
Wind & Fire.

30 Seconds
to Bruno Mars!

Clap Your Hands
Say Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

Busta Leann Rimes.

Faith Hill
No More.

George Michael Bublé.

Seven Mary 311.

The Pointer
Sisters of Mercy.

Slick Rick Ross.

Simply Red Hot
Chili Peppers.

- To the breastaurant!
- I love tits!

It's a decent
sando, buddy.

Convo ends
at decent, bro.

Yeah, well, beats
doing Squat Speedmans.

Anything's better
than Squat Weilands.

- Squatty Bowmans.
- Harry Squatter.

Squat Stevens.

You hear about that
breastaurant opening, buddy?

Gonna be some top-line snipes
working there, buddy.

Top six for sure, buddy.

You know what I'm secretly
even more excited for
though, buddy?

What's that, bro?

- (Whispers) Big city sandos!
- Top cheddar?

Top Swiss!

You know what they call
arugula in England, buddy?

BOTH: Rocket!

Not you,
but you are a rocket.

NASA certified.

What about that
big city bread?

Oh, gotta celebrate
the biscuit, buddy.

Gotta worship
the focaccia!

A shrine to all twelve
seeds and grains.

- Sauce me a pass, bro.
- Pass me a sauce, buddy.

- Little sriracha aioli?
- Little truffle reduction?

- Li'l pesto mayo?
- Li'l curry ketchup?

A li'l spicy brown habanero
dill mustard? Fuck!

Mmm! Little piri-piri
wasabi horseradish? Fuck!

- WAYNE: Gail, how are ya now?
- Good 'n you?

- Oh, not so bad.
- 'Kay.

Don't love
how quiet it is in here.

Well, maybe
you haven't heard.

Letterkenny has welcomed
a breastaurant to town.

Yeah? That, uh...
breastaurant?

It's about as welcome
as an outhouse breeze.

You've got loyal customers
for life in us.

You know that, right?

Yeah, but those citiots
poached my best server.

ALL:
Awww!

Bonnie McMurray!

I'm still working here!

But I'm working a double
today... in two places.

- Judas.
- We've all gotta make our
paper,

and I'm not surprised
they poached me.

I have more savoir faire
than anyone in town.

(Mockingly)
Savoir faire.

- Savoir fwair.
- Savoir faire!

(Mumbling)
Suvuh faiyah.

Does ya really wanna works
at a place like that

that's gonna exploits ya,
though, Bonnies?

Can't exploit me
if I volunteer, bud. Tips.

Do you really want guys
leering at you all night long

while you're trying
to do work?

How's that any different
than being around you two,

or how Gail exploits Wayne
around here?

What Wayne and I have
is a sacred bond

between bartender
and customer!

And sometimes
my weighted body pillow.

Yawn.

I heard those places takes part
in bad business practices.

Likes to avoid
payin' severances,

they'll just keeps givin' ya
bad shifts until ya quits

rather than fires ya.

I'd never fire anyone
for anything I wouldn't do.

ROSIE: Some blonde uptown
just tried to recruit me.

KATY: To work
at the breastaurant?

- For what reason?
- I'll give ya two.

Fair.

Gotta go.

- Hmm, I don't leer.
- Buddy, you're King Leer.

You're Leer as Folk.

You're Leer
and Present Danger.

Nothin' to leers
but leers itself.

Leers for Fears.

- I don't leer!
- Leer down, big rig!

Behold!

Your new lounge leader
of late night happy hour.

- It's happy hour.
- Mia--

(Clearing throat)
--Sofia?

Low-rent Gerard Way?

You manage
the breastaurant?

That term is offensive,
you queerbait.

(Squealing)

Just gonna just let that one
hang in the air for a minute.

You, uh--
(Awkward chuckling)

--you look pretty hot.

Thank you.
You been, uh, working out?

Actually, I--

Just kidding,
I don't give a fuck.

(Growling)

You have just
fallen backwards

into catching
the luckiest of breaks.

I have arrived
to grace your establishment

with my Ibiza-level talents
on the ones and twos.

The hiring process is over

and that's not how
you pronounce Ibiza.

You should 'I-bee-tha'
so lucky

to have Stewart drop
waxed science

upon the patrons
of your Straight Hooters.

Fine. Résumé.

(Both scoffing
dramatically, repeatedly)

Never have I once been asked
for my credentials!

The nerve of requiring a paper
defence of my title as--

Best DJ in Letterkenny!
(Mimicking echoing)

Letterkenny is
minor league, bud.

You're up against
city talent here.

Do you have a SoundCloud
at least?

(Scoffing) We only post
our mixes on the dark web.

Hmm. Beat it,
Chemical Sisters.

Let's go, girls.

Your problematic language
is going to show up
in my Yelp review.

Buddy, I know we've
already expressed

our mutual excitement for
the big city sandos.

However, I fear we'd
be remiss

if we forgot to
circle back on the...

- Slams?
- The big city slams.

You know what I'm like,
secretly most excited for?

What's that, buddy?

The toilets.

Oh, first class
shitters, bro.

Floor to ceiling doors
on the stalls.

Sports page above
the pisser.

Exotic foot
flush buttons.

You know what I love doing
at those pissers?

(Giggling)
I bet I know.

That little game
where you try--

BOTH:
--and melt all the ice
in the urinal with your pee!

- 'Ferda.
- 'Ferda!

Still though. There's gonna be
some talent there tonight.

Great place
to net a few.

You ever wheeled in
a chain restaurant, buddy?

Buddy, I've never not wheeled
in a restaurant.

I wheeled a hostess before my
seating pager even went off.

I wheeled
a double-shifting server

post zoo sticks
with extra dip.

I wheeled a manager while
she was rolling her loonies

for her cash out.

I diddled
in a Golden Griddle.

I wheeled a Kelsey
at a Kelsey's.

I wheeled a Casey
at a Casey's.

I fucked Bubba Gump
at Bubba Gump's.

Flagship store.

Bottomed my first top
at IHOP.

Gobbled cock
at Manchu Wok.

Straight up the poolius
at Orange Julius.

You know I've fucked guys
at Popeye's.

Ripped a double choke-o
at El Pollo Loco.

Raging bone
at Cold Stone.

Took it in the back
at Shake Shack.

Ever sucked willies
at a Chili's?

Buddy, I've had Five Guys
with a side of fries.

You see these thighs?
Don't tell no lies.

Have you guys ever heard
of Gay Hooters?

Gettin' a wee bit nervous
about tonight's crowd.

But there isn't one.

Fuckin' right
you're on fire, eh.

I can't even understand
the appeal

of opening a chain restaurant
in Letterkenny.

Maybe you should
adjust, cousint'.

Doing anything special
besides Wing Wednesdays?

Thirsty Thursday!

Get so drunk on Saturdays
that I free pour.

That counts.

Nah, these are
the types of places

that have nights
like Frosé Friday.

Oh, I love
frosé beverages.

I tell you what,

they rock a Mozza Stick
Monday, you rock a--

Deep Fried
Mushroom Monday.

Fuckin' eh!

You already do
Thirsty Thursdays.

That's three nights
right there.

I do what I do!

My customers are loyal
or they're not.

Hey, Gail, you know what
I'm glad that you never do?

- What?
- On top of not asking
customers,

"What are your big plans
for the night?"

while you're waiting
for them to pay the bill.

Worst.

(Quietly) Sometimes
I'm excited to share.

(Chuckling)
You never say--

(Chuckling)
You never say...

"How are the first few
bites tasting?"

- Holy fuck.
- Ugh!

- Like, holy fuck.
- Yuck.

(Quietly) Except for, maybe
it's not tasting so good.

You know what,
there's somethin' real pervy

about that
word "taste".

McMurray pervy
as I recall.

- Who could forgets?
- It's just a word.

You think?

You don't think it sounds
a little bit pervy at all

to say, "And how are
the first few bites tasting?"

"Hey. Hey.

Everything tasting
to your liking?"

"I see you've had a taste.
How was it?"

"Couple bites there.
How's it taste?"

"Taste... good?"

"Oh, yeah.
You like how it tastes?"

- Cheque please.
- Sure thing.

What are your big plans
for the night?

Ugh!

Sasha and Dickweed.

Name me one other purveyor
of the black wax

who has such a glorious
display of twelve inches.

BOTH:
The Phantom's Revenge.

I think twelve inches is
giving yourself

a bit too much credit.

Hmm, no.
No, it's actua--

I wasn't talking to you,
Fartboy Slim.

You are bitchier
than I remember!

And you're uglier.

Just lay your eyes
upon this glorious crate!

(Grunting)

They are all rare
white label bootlegs.

We have the two-step garage
remix of Melissa Etheridge.

Bobby McFerrin
Live at Budokan.

Skrillex,
early acoustic demo.

There's a recording
of Daft Punk

literally playing
at James Murphy's house.

- Chicago covering Boston.
- Boston covering Toronto.

Toronto covering
Chicago!

Stop!
Fuck, you guys sound

like a game of meth-head
Cards Against Humanity.

Impressed?

I wasn't even listening,

but I noticed
you have a case of vinyls.

Ugh!

The plural of "vinyl"
is vinyl.

- (Scoffs) It's not Lego.
- Whatever.

We don't have turntables here.
This isn't 1982.

You-- you don't
have turntables?

(Scoffing)

Uh, then what do your DJs use?
- I don't know.

The one I hired brings in
this circle contraption,

the other just plays
YouTube clips off her phone.

- Blasphemy.
- Heresy!

I also checked out your online
presence, you have none.

Mm-hmm, but, um
did you check the--

BOTH:
--dark web?

Listen, there are two types of
DJs you hire in this business.

Those who suck
but bring people down,

and those who don't suck
and don't bring people down,

but keep people here.
If you have big tits,

and experience DJing
in the city, even better.

Love that
big city titty.

What about
itty-bitty city titty?

BOTH:
Pretty shitty.

Give me one good reason
you won't hire me!

I've given several,
but let's recap.

Big picture, you don't have
followers, you don't have tits,

and you probably
don't even do mashups.

- Ogh!
- Ugh!

I knew it, Ste-- I knew--
Stewart, I knew it!

Probably looking for
a little INXS-Club 7?

Talk to me when you've got
some Post Malonely Island.

A little Blink 182 Chainz?

Come back when you've got
some KRS-One Direction.

Maybe a little
Stone Temple 21 Pilots?

21 Savage Garden.

(Mockingly)
George Michael Bolton?

Less talk,
more Cat Power Stevens.

- Uh, Lil Wayne Newton?
- Halsey and Oates, bitch.

Cardi Beastie Boys?

Cardi B-52's!

Alice In Chainsmokers?

Fall Out Boy George.

The Jackson
5 Seconds of Summer?!

- Cardi Beatles.
- BOTH: Aggghh!

Hoo, boy.

You ever hoovered schneef
in a restaurant?

I've hoovered schneef
at a Subway Samiches'

cuttin' it up with
a fully stocked rewards card.

I've hoovered schneef
and gone back for a fountain
pop refill.

I've hoovered schneef off
the middle buns of
my Bigs Macs.

I've hoovered schneef off
of a billfold

before payin' my tab.

I've hoovered schneefs
off of the baby change station

in a handicap stall at an
East Side Mario's
in Etobicokes.

I've hoovered
gluten-free schneef.

I've hoovered
ocean wise schneef.

I've hoovered schneef
at a Cactus Club in Saskatoon

and heard a fella in the next
stall say, "Git it in ya."

Fuckin' degens.

Gailer, do lots of people
hoover schneef in here?

I pour lamp oil on the tops
of the toilet tanks before
every shift.

If anyone dumps schneef on
it, it dissolves instantly.

- Do you really?
- She does.

I'm the only one who's gonna
get your fucked up in here.

"You" bein' the key word

'cause there ain't anyone
else to serve.

Guess my customers are
as loyal as Sir Bill's.

REILLY:
Hey, Gailer?

Is the kitchen
still open?

The door is,
the kitchen is!

Easton and Weston...
I thought for sure

you'd be marching up skirt
at the new place.

We were but we looked
at their menu

and their sandos
are $26.

Then share.

It said no sharing
on the menu.

Godless motherfuckers!

Madame Gail?

Don't call me a madam.

I don't run
a brothel. Yet.

- Ah. Sex.
- Sex.

We've brought you
and your patrons

the finest of worldly
songsmith selections.

What patrons?

May we put them on in
a chosen sequence anyway?

Sure.

ALL:
Oh! Bonnie McMurray!

What it do,
chicky-poo?

They cut me. Bit of a disaster
over there, actually.

They weren't prepared
for the crowd.

See, they're making fools of
themselves over there, Gailer.

So, everybody's leaving?

You heard it here first.

(Chatter outside)

(Latin piano
music playing)

Guess I'm workin'
a triple.

♪ Arriba! ♪

♪ Mm, mm! Woooo! ♪

♪ Tell me ♪

♪ Tell me whatcha like ♪

♪ Tell me whatcha ordered ♪

♪ Met a freak 'bout to bring
her back to Georgia ♪

♪ Get her past the border ♪

♪ Might go down to Florida
or to California ♪

♪ Smellin' my aroma ♪

♪ Niggas actin' like
they really certified ♪

♪ What?
Show me your diploma ♪

♪ He's a goner ♪

♪ Came from the city where
they tote their hammers ♪

♪ Aim for the money,
shit so bananas ♪

♪ Pin a pic with the flow
better hold the canvas ♪

♪ Hit your girl from the back
make her hold the candles ♪

♪ It's lit ♪

♪ All the candles ♪

♪ Whole neck shine
like solar panels ♪

♪ Must see TV
I control the channel ♪

♪ I'm 'bout to make a film
better hold the camera ♪

♪ Like, whoa!
Whoa! Whoa! ♪

♪ Pulled up
with the whole gang ♪

♪ Everybody yell "go!" ♪

♪ Sprinkle my cheddar
on the chips ♪

♪ My wallet nah' yours ♪

Sprinklin', sprinklin'!

♪ If your girl round me,
sorry ♪

♪ That mean that
you lost her (that lost her) ♪

♪ Aight money dance to
the bank, my money
do the salsa ♪

♪ Woo! It dance
and it dance ♪

♪ Whoa, whoa ♪

♪ It dance and it dance
and it dance ♪

Arriba!

♪ It dance and it dance ♪

♪ It dance and it dance
and don't stop ♪

♪ Whoa, whoa!
It dance... ♪