Moone Boy (2012–2015): Season 3, Episode 6 - George's Bucket List - full transcript

They say family is a symphony where
each member plays a different tune.

Why do I have to share
a room with this knob-bucket?

But with the Moones, it was
a symphony played by a one-armed,

tone-deaf orchestra, performing an anthem
so high-pitched only dogs could hear it.

It's just not fair!
Life isn't fair, love.

Thank you. Listen to the man!
From this moment on, we are at war!

When were we at peace?
What are they fighting about now?

I honestly can't remember.
I just use

"life isn't fair"
as my position on everything now.

Martin used my scrunchie as a
catapult and now it's too baggy.

Well, you know I can't
throw things manually.



All your dead arms have
rendered my shoulders too weak.

I'm going to end you, you flute.
But I've barely started!

Have you tried playing peek-a-boo?

I've been peek-a-booing
for an hour, Dessie.

Delma, is there any chance you
could change Rose's nappy today?

It's not her nappy, she's teething.

Are you sure?
Because the smell is disgusting.

Oh, no, definitely teething
Mammy Moone,

believe me,
I've seen Delma's nipples.

Oh, yes, I have, they're
a mess, they are awful

And so to escape the primal screams
and the duelling banjos...

Shut up, Martin.
I wasn't even speaking.

Trisha Moone had sought the musical
sanctuary of her grandad's house

to study for her leaving cert.
Any danger of a cup of tea today?



I brought you tea five minutes ago.
Though she was learning that age

had made his rhythm a little rusty.

You forgot the sugar.

While you're up, get me
a fresh cup of tea, will you?

And break out the bourbon, will you?

It's got to be five o'clock
somewhere, right, Joe?

Yeah! And the Bourbons too!
Because growing old is like jazz.

You're still making music but
sometimes the melody slips a little.

There's your flipping Bourbons.

Thanks, doll! There you go.

Why don't you buy yourself
something nice?

Like maybe a smile or something!

Why do we have to learn history?
It's all in the flipping past!

Exactly! If we have to learn
something, which I dispute,
we should be learning the future.

Right! Not doing stupid exams
on the Irish Civil War.

Yeah. Just because it took place 70
years ago this week and changed the
course of our nation? Who cares?

Totally! It's a sack of nonsense.
Fighting over some dorky treaty

that stimulated a tug-of-war between
de Valera and Michael Collins

to become the voice of
a new Ireland? Bore off!

Wait, you've been studying!
What? No, I haven't.

We said we wouldn't study!
We said we'd fail together

and then just blame
the whole flipping system.

I wasn't studying. I just
have a photographic memory.

I just stared at the book
for ages and ages,

read it and re-read it
and then somehow remembered it.

That's studying, you big studier.

I'm not running away, I'm escaping,
like de Valera from Lincoln Gaol!

You don't think I should be
studying too, do you, Sean?

Oh, there's got to be another way.

We could burn down the school?

Ah, some bloody swot
would only rebuild it.

No, what we need
is a first-hand account

of the Irish Civil War
to make our mediocre answers pop.

Yeah! Were you alive then?
Keep thinking, buddy.

Ma'am? Well, the maths exam
is going to be a breeze. Wait.

Of course, I've got it!
That's my boy.

You mean your grandad, right?
That makes more sense.

Can I help with any of that, love?
You want to help me study?

God, no. It just felt right to ask.

How's it working out
studying over at Grandad's?

He's, um... He's... A pain in the
arse? Such a pain in the arse.

Go easy on him, Dr Huxtable says
he's got early signs of Alzheimer's.

His doctor is called Huxtable? No,
but he always wears flashy jumpers.

Oh, and he's black.

To be fair, Dad was a pain
in the arse before he got sick.

Ah, Liam.
Hey, I hate to see him like this.

But when I was a teenager and he
realised we had nothing in common,

he told me I was adopted.
Were you? He delivered me himself!

In the back of that stupid car.
Speaking of which,

don't let him drive, he drives
like he is out of his mind.

Which probably won't be
helped by the Alzheimer's.

Just keep the poor
fella stimulated and engaged.

And ignore the relentless
hateful insults.

I'm sure he's mellowed with age.
He told me last night

that I look like a reject
from a vampire school.

Bingo!

I remember bits and pieces from the
civil war but I was only your age.

Oh, and my mind's not what it was.

Tell me about it, I can't even
remember what I had for lunch today.

You haven't had
lunch yet today, buddy.

Thing is, I lost my schoolbooks
in a bet, so I'm kind of
running low on options here.

But at least we know that a donkey
can't outrun a train, don't we?

God, that was a sad accident.

God, you're thick. So, what sort
of details are you looking for?

Well, what can you remember
about the spring of 1922?

Well, the Anglo-Irish Treaty
was causing all kinds of chaos.

There was a smell
of fresh blood in the air.

Deadly.
Lovely stuff. Keep it coming.

Everyone on the Sinn Fein side
knew Nixon was a loose canon

and, of course, there were rumours

that de Valera
had just got the H-Bomb.

What? That's a little surprising.
Nixon I don't think was...

Michael Collins
led the fight anyway,

storming the beaches of Normandy.
But what he didn't know

was that Napoleon and the Japs
were already dug in.

Oh, yeah, the Japs
were big in Ireland at the time.

So, let me get this right, Grandad.

Prepare to die, you feckin' midget!

Get off my beach, you lanky gombeen.

Ha-ha! You langer.

Merde! Unleash ze secret weapon!

Wait! Are you saying
Godzilla was pro-treaty?

Are you still writing this down?
Ah, come on, Martin.

The truth is, at that age, all
I really did was listen to music.

Do you want me to play the piano?

Wow! That's impressive.
How are you doing that?

Not really a big music man,
to be honest, Grandad.

As Churchill said, "Music
is just a waste of a good walk."

Wasn't that golf? Music is just
a waste of a good golf?

That's it. Lucky I've got you to
keep the facts straight, Grandad.

Hi, there. You're new.

Hot dog! A fellow imaginary! How
do you like that? I like it fine.

Wooh! You're a big fella. Hey! Look!

Who crapped you out,
you;re like a big stupid tree.

Yeah, I'm a bit like a tree.

You want a drink, sasquatch?
I'm buying!

I do always encourage Martin
to speak to strangers. So why not?

So, are you with
the grumpy vampire broad?

Er, no. The idiot boy
talking to Grandad.

Grandad! What a hoot.

He was just Little Joe
last time I was around.

Now he's Wrinkly Old Joe.
But I can't complain, Paddy.

It's good to be back in the game!

You're Grandad's childhood
imaginary friend?

Out of the flames
like a funky phoenix.

Hey, let me ask you
a question, Paddy.

How did the big war turn out?
We won.

We did? Probably. Do you think
you're back for good?

Why? What have you heard?
I've heard nothing. Good.

Let's keep it that way.

What?

I'm yanking your chain,
you big dumb Mick. Eh!

Want me to butt you?
Want me to what me?

A gasper. A snipe. A butt.
A cigarette, dumbo.

No, thanks, I'm good.
Turns out they're bad for you.

They said the same thing about
opium, never did me no wrong. Woof!

You are a breath of fresh air, sir.

You're not so bad yourself,
you stupid piece of shit.

You're so mean. Hey, what
did you say your name was again?

Er, Sean. Murphy.

That's a stupid name!

Oh, you're serious.
Oh, good for you.

Hey, I'm George. George Gershwin.

Kind of nice to meet you, George.

Thanks for your time, lads.
So I was wondering,

if any of you are a bit confused
about this whole civil-war thing,

maybe we could all get together
and do a kind of re-enactment.

What? Re-enactments are for knobs.

Yeah, he's right, they are.
Unless you mean like on Crimewatch.

Oh, now that's good telly.
Yeah. Yeah.

Sure! Why not?
Except, during the battle,

maybe you can mention
who you what side you're on,

and what year it is.
General history.

All right,
but I want to be de Valera.

Yeah, we're Dev.
Could I be Patrick Pearse's mother?

I could be a postman at the GPO.
I want to be an innocent bystander!

I'm going to be a Brit, so I can
beat the shite out of all of you.

A civil-war re-enactment.

I was born to do this!

Any chance you can drive down to
the shop? We need some schnapps.

Yeah, and make it schnappy, will
you? I told you, I can't drive.

Why did we even hire this hussy?
Every Moone should be able to drive.

And why is that? For whatever the
reason, we tend to land ourselves

in situations
that require a swift escape.

Like annoying grandparents?

Why are you listening
to that Nazi tripe?

I've got an exam on that Nazi tripe.

If you want to learn anything,
you should learn jazz.

I was in a great jazz band
for years, you know.

I was a real swinging cat. We
were called Rhapsody In Boyle.

# Rhapsody in Boyle # Listen,
Grandad, I'm trying to study.

Why don't you go in and
watch telly or something?

There's probably
cartoons on somewhere.

Draculady sure has a sharp tongue.

I'd stick a stake in her heart
but she ain't got none.

So Grandad's got an imaginary
friend? Sure that's no surprise,

he's always yapping away to himself.
The big weirdo.

Oh, yeah.

Yeah, his name's George Gershwin

and he's some kind of
music composer from the 1930s.

As I always say, "Music
is just a waste of a good golf."

Wise words, buddy.
But here's the thing,

even though he's just come back,

poor George may not be around
for very much longer. Why not?

Well, you know, your grandad's
really quite old and he might, um,

you know, he might stop
imagining him, is what I mean.

Well, let that be a warning to you,
Sean. Always keep me entertained.

Fair point. Want me to do my trick?
Oh, yeah. Magic it up, beardface!

OK. Now, watch closely because
this has always confused you.

You are some kind
of a witch, Murphy.

Unbelievable. So I've been thinking,

before poor George bites the dust,
we could have him make

a kind of bucket list.
You ever hear of one of those?

Yeah, I just finished writing one.
What?

This is a list of things you
want to do before you die?

No, this is just a list of things
I have inside this bucket. Right.

Towel. Trowel. List of things I want
to do before I die. Driving gloves.

Ahh, the bare necessities

Heading off now, Grandad!
Good night!

Grandad?

I need to get to my gig.

What are you talking about?

We're opening for ol' Fats Fatman.

And that greasy goon's got no time
for nothing but a second dessert.

What gig? I can't be feckin' late!
They're all waiting for me.

Are you sure it's tonight?

Ah, feck it!
Don't blow your wig, Joe.

I'm sure that fat fruitcake is
still working on a fat fruitcake.

Why don't you come back inside
and I'll fix us a fresh cuppa?

Or something stronger.

Yeah, all right, love.

Be careful, Joe,
I think she means blood.

A five and a three.
That's eight, eight for Joe.

This is great, isn't it Dad?

Maths, property, colours,
the whole shebang.

Why are we doing this shit?
We're keeping you stimulated,

like Dr Huxtable suggested.

Do you think that nickname is
racist? I'm not decided on that.

Pearse Street. Want to buy it, Joe?

In Dublin? No way, Jose.

Had a situation
with a stripper there once.

Had to make a swift escape.
Where's all your money gone, Dad?

Oh, I've tucked that away
for a rainy day.

Don't listen to them, Joe.
You'll be the one laughing

when Black Wednesday hits 'em!
Damn right, George. Who's George?

We're rumbled, Joe. Sock him in the
jewels and let's blow this joint.

I meant... jacks. I need the jacks.

Down the hall, on the right.

We know where the damn restroom is!

Other way, Joe.

Has he been acting like this a lot?
No, not really.

Did you know he was in a jazz band
called Rhapsody In Boyle?

He just likes telling stories, love.

Like you and the handball thing?
Hey! I was a wonderful handballer.

Grandad isn't well, pet.
But if he gets any worse,

you need to let us know. Why? We'll
have to move him into the hospital.

I don't think he'd like that,
he loves being home.

And he's really not that bad.
Just talks to himself a bit
but no more than Martin.

Well, we're pretty sure that
Martin's got Alzheimer's too.

That's what I thought a bucket
list was too but apparently,
it means something else entirely.

Wait, does that mean
I have to rewrite all of these?

So what do you think? Are you in?

I don't know. It'd mean cancelling
the civil-war re-enactment.

I'd been looking forward
to that my whole life,

since you told me
about it yesterday.

Yeah, I do feel bad about that.

Ah, flip it! We'll do it next week.

It's settled. Next week, civil war,
this week, Gershwin. Is that OK?

A bucket list for George Gershwin.
I was born to do this.

Hey, take me for a drive, will you?
You know I can't drive.

Then I'll drive. Come on. I've
got my first exam in three days.

Can't you just go without me?
Debra's on her way over
to teach us line-dancing.

Isn't that something you'd
like a swift escape from?

I'll get you the keys.

A bucket list, huh?

Ain't that a swell bell?
So, you're up for it?

I think it's a dandy plan, fellas.
Hah! You boys are the cat's miaow!

What did he say?
Not a clue.

Did you put this on?
Want the Nazi tripe instead?

No.

It's... not terrible.

I just don't get why it matters.
Because I want to go to college.

College smollege. We played
clubs all over the country

and the brightest women
I ever met were a pair of exotic

dancing twins called
Booby and Tits O'Toole.

You think I should be a stripper?

Not sure you have the ankles for it,
to be honest.

Girls go to college now.

Ironically, it's mainly to have sex,
but still...

In my day, everybody cheated
their way through examinations.

Right. And how did you do that?
Oh, loads of ways.

Write the answers inside
chewing-gum wrappers.

Bribe your teacher
with a box of snuff.

Invisible ink.
That one doesn't even make sense.

Where the hell are we? How should
I know? You're the one driving.

I thought there was
a jazz club here.

The Flippity Flophouse.

What the hell is happening to me?

Take me home.

Anything else?

Well, let's see now. Before
the lights go out for good,

I wanna play
one last game of baseball.

Oh, baseball? OK.
What do you think, buddy?

Would a game of rounders do, Mr G?

Actually, he's standing
over here. But don't worry.

No point fretting about
the logic at this stage.

This is kind of a long shot
but is there any chance

I could get behind the wheel of an
automobile? An automobile? Hmmm!

An automobile.
Er, I have a tractor?

Of course you do.
Anything else, Mr Gershwin?

How about one last
tinkle on the ivories?

Not sure that's the expression.
You know what would be aces?

To see a nudey lady one last time.

OK. Well, that might be
tricky but we'll put it on the list.

Nudey lady, Martin. Nudey lady,
Padraic. I already had it down.

How do I change gears?

I don't know, I'm all confused.
Is it that?

Try the pedal on the left.

I think that worked!
More accelerator.

Don't be afraid of it. Now throw in
the clutch and get us up to third.

You seem better now.
Ah, comes and goes.

Stupid bloody illness.

Look at you, driving.

What is that? That's not...

I'm just going to throw it.
I'm going to throw it.

Badda-badda, swingball!

Can't take my heat, bitch!

You ready?

Oh! Catch it, boys!

Holy! Catch it! Catch it, boys!

Catch it!

Come on, he's getting around.

Knobs!

She's a right bitch to started.
So Padraic will get her going,

then jump off
and you'll take the wheel.

Ha! I don't understand a word you're
saying, Curly. But let's do it!

Tractor!

Ha-ha! Get out of the way.

Woo-hoo!

OK, Grandad.
Heel and heel, heel, now heel.

Go on. Heel left.

Now three, now four.

Woo-hoo!
Tractor!

I've never driven this fast.

What the...? Come on!

Get it, Padraic!
We'll lose the deposit.

Grandad?

Grandad?

Oh, I see. Think I'm your
bloody chauffeur now, do you?

Forget your feckin' gig, Grandad.
Come on, it's freezing out here.

Grandad?

I'm going to steal your wallet now,
I'm not joking.

Grandad, you bollox.

And so it was that Martin Moone
ended up at his first funeral

for the only grandad he ever knew.

Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,
you're all welcome.

And the only 1930s
music composer he ever knew.

What can I say about Joe Moone?

What can I say about George Gershwin?

I didn't know him very well myself.

As Joe told me, he preferred
to do his praying in private.

But like all of us, he was many
different things to many people.

To some, a father.
To others, a grandfather.

to others, a valued customer
of a burlesque club.

To some, he was a friend.

To some, a casually racist uncle.

To others, a crasher of tractors,

a poppy puffer, a peeper of toms.

And to others still, he was...
I never actually met him.

A total stranger. A man of mystery.
A friend we hadn't yet met.

Joe lived a long and eventful life.

I once visited him
in the nursing home

and he was full
of fascinating memories,

whether it was playing
piano for Chubby Checker,

or gun-running for Ghandi, or, of
course, filming the moon landing.

George Gershwin lived a very
short life and then disappeared.

And then he came back
and lived an even shorter life.

So, like a really great film,
George had a sequel,

which wasn't quite as
good as the original.

And although he wasn't the hero,
he was a hero, sort of.

And on this very sad day, I'm
reminded of these poetic words.

But above all, Joe was a music man.

So, what better way to say goodbye

than through the work of his hero,
George Gershwin?

Where have all the good men gone?
And where are all the gods?

Where is the street-wise Hercules
to fight the rising odds?

I need a hero.

I'm holding out for a hero
'til the end of the night.

Do you mind if I join you, love?

He would've hated this.
Ah, yeah.

But sure, he hated most things.

This is what he would have wanted.

Yeah. This but with strippers.

Ah! He was a dirty old bastard.

And he's got to be strong.
And he's got to be fast.

And he's got to be
fresh from the fight.

Gershwin? You potato-munchers sure
know how to throw a good funeral.

Thank you for coming. Hi.
Goodbye.

Thank you. Doctor.
A hell of a jumper.

It's a real doozie, fellas.
I thought I was headed for

that big speakeasy in the sky.
But then I just kept on existing.

So I suppose you're a ghost now?
A ghost?

That's what ghosts really are.
They're not dead people.

What? Is that what people think?
Urgh!

Ghosts are just imaginary friends
who have been left behind.

I'll see you, Deb. Think I'm going
to head home, get drunk in the bath.

I better shake a leg, boys.

I've got to give a nudey lady
a case of the heebie-jeebies.

Ha! Nice to meet you, George.
So long, Paddy. So long...

I never learnt your name.
I wouldn't worry.

Ah! He reminds me of Joe
at that age, same stupid face.

Aw!

I've got to make a swift escape.
So long, you monochrome muppet

Hey, let him know,
if he ever needs me...

..I don't know how
he'd get in touch with me.

It's not like I have.. You know
what, forget I said... Never mind.

He said bye. Aw! Bye.
Wrong way, buddy.

You cheeky bastard.

That's it, toots, bend that back.

Whoopsie-daisy!

Where the hell is Michael Collins?

Is that him?

Oh! Oh, God!

Ah, what a beautiful day
for a battle.

I'd like to put on the record
that I'm not behind this idea.

Shut up and do your thing, Godzilla!
Ah!

Rrarrgghh!

If you want to stay around,
you'll put some welly into it.

Ooh! I gave myself
a little fright that time.

Actually, that was pretty good. OK,
lets go re-enact some Irish history!

Yep! That's what we're doing.