Mrs. Brown's Boys D'Movie Page #4

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Now can you get Mary to the law library

on Friday morning?

We'll get a sworn affidavit and submit

it to the court. This is fantastic.

- Oh, the... Um...

- What?

No, no, no... We'll need a barrister.

And I know just the man.

I was born and raised in a cottage

on the banks of the Royal Canal.

Bluebell Cottage, it was called.

My father and mother lived there

all their married life.

When my father died in 1999, my mother,

of course, was brokenhearted.

But that cottage had so much

of my father in it, in every corner.

It kept her strong.

That's nice.

Can we get on to my case, please?

Agnes. Give the lad a chance.

Go on, son.

Well, in 1999 the PR Irwin Company

bought most of the canal bank cottages.

They wanted to build apartments,

but my mother wouldn't sell.

Then one day she went out to buy some

brake pads for her Honda Gold Wing...

And when she returned,

the cottage had been levelled.

Everything that made up

her 73 years of life,

all in one big pile of rubble.

Can they do that?

Oh, it was a mistake, they claimed.

The contractor had bulldozed

the wrong house, they said.

The contractor was fined, my mother got

quite a large sum in compensation,

but within months she was dead.

Died of a broken heart?

No, it was a paragliding accident.

Irwin is the local representative.

I mean, it may not be him.

Oh, Irwin is behind this all right.

I checked the records out of curiosity.

He's up to his old tricks again.

The land around your market is owned by

Harbour Master Investments.

And Harbour Master Investments

is owned by...

PR Irwin.

No, another company. Tiny Tool Limited.

Whose shares are in the name of...

PR Irwin.

- No.

- Feck's sake.

Three shareholders

who all are connected to...

- PR lnuin.

- Feck it!

So if we beat the Revenue, we beat Irwin.

Are you on board, Mr Maydo Archer?

Mrs Brown, has Mr Crews here

informed you about my condition?

Condition? What condition?

When under pressure,

lam prone to bouts of Tourette's.

For f***'s sake. What the f*** is that?

Nothing that might bother you. I'm in.

I've got myself a lovely barrister.

A very handsome-looking man.

- Well, you know, you're never too old.

- Ha!

Now Mary, when we get in here,

all you have to do is sign an affidavit,

just to say that my granny paid her tax.

That way my stall will be safe.

Oh, for f***'s sake.

You'd think in 102 years she'd have

learned to cross the f***ing road.

And so we lay to rest our dearly departed,

Mary Moccasin, mother of seven...

Mother of sorrows, look at her.

Philomena, God love you,

you must be devastated.

Not really.

What a pity. Now we have

to find that receipt.

Receipt?

Well, if your grandmother paid it, they'll

have a receipt in the Revenue Office.

...she sold second hand

shoes and illegal fireworks from her stall.

Let us all take a silent moment

now to recall...

Father, move it. Faster, faster!

- Lord hear us.

- Lord graciously hear us.

As it is now and shall it always be,

world without end.

Amen.

In the name of the Father, Son,

the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Go, go, go, go, go.

- How do you do?

- Hello?

F***.

Two chips, one small cod.

- Do you want salt and vinegar'?

- Yeah.

Salt and vinegar on one, please.

How do you do?

We're looking to get a receipt

and we were told we could get it here.

National Records Service.

Yes, so this is the

National Records Service, then?

- No, you're through to the wrong building.

- Oh.

- What's this, then?

- Hello?

Hello.

National Records Service.

Excuse me.

Listen very carefully.

Is this the National Records Service?

Yes, this is the National Record Service.

- Shall we get a receipt here then?

- Hold on, please.

- OK.

- OK what?

- We're holding on.

- For what?

You're going to show us

where to get the receipt.

National Records Service.

Listen, fuckface,

how do I see the actual receipts?

- Get your feckin' hands off me!

- On your way, ladies.

I have four sons.

Now what?

I don't know. We have to get in there.

Maybe if you disguise yourself.

- Disguise?

- Yeah.

You could disguise yourself as a man.

No, Winnie, I'd never get away with it.

I know who'll get in there for us.

It's all up to you now' son.

So, what's the plan, Dermot?

See that restricted area over there?

Over there?

Don't point!

Sorry, Dermot.

You walk over with me,

and when we get there,

you do something to

distract the security guard.

- I'll slip past him.

- You have it, Dermot.

Can I help you?

Yeah... No. I'm grand.

You said a distraction.

I know what I said.

Dermot, I'll get that

receipt for your mammy.

I have a plan. Do you want to hear it?

Does it involve blind ninjas?

- Maybe.

- Nope.

OK, come on. Hully, hully.

Oh, you squeezed my scrotum. Don't do that.

K, follow me. Come on. Come on.

Come on, hurry.

OK, men, the camera and the

spotlight scans the area every 20 seconds.

Once it passes, we have

to get to that door.

We scale the railings first, and then

everybody wait for my "Go" before moving.

Excellent plan.

OK'? So the word is "Go".

- What the f***?

- You said "Go"!

I think he's dead. I can't feel a pulse.

That's because you're holding his torch.

- Pick him up and put him in the van.

- Right you are.

Right, we still have four.

We can still make this a go.

- What the f***?

- Stop saying it.

Saying what? "Go"?

Oh, for f***'s sake.

And you can call us on 0890107-252.

Now In the studio with me today,

I have the wonderful Agnes Brown,

Moore Street trader and mother of six.

We've had many calls, Agnes,

from people who are full of admiration

for, for you, not just

as a market stallholder

but as a mother. A super mother.

No, Joe, no, Joe, I'm just

an ordinary, well, you know...

Now hang on. We've Melanie on line three.

Go ahead, Melanie. Talk to Joe.

Agnes Brown is also a super mother

to all of us who work a!

Moore Street Market.

Without her we've no hope of

keeping Moore Street alive.

She's our hero Joe, and a hero

to bring up six children all alone.

She's right, Agnes. You are a hero.

Oh, Joe, look, no, I'm not.... Well, yes,

it was difficult to, yes, it was, yeah.

Well, in those days women would have

seen their children taken into care.

What do you mean? What?

I mean, I know they were different times,

but if a parent passed away, their children

would have been taken into care.

And yours were all babies, weren't they?

Cheer up, Agnes, that receipt will turn up.

It's not that.

I...

What?

Well, you see, when Redser died...

Well, I was living in London with Jacko

then, but I remember the telegram.

I put the kids into care.

What?

They never mentioned it,

so I presumed they'd forgotten.

But with all this talk about me being

the best mother in the world, and...

I couldn't cope.

Jesus, if they find out.

Stop it now.

Shush. There's no need for anyone to know.

Good morning, Mrs Brown.

Oh, Father Damien. How are you'?

Grand, thanks. Sad about Mary, isn't it?

Yes, very, very sad, Father.

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