Obituary (2023) s02e04 Episode Script

1
(tense music)
(terrified gasps)
Wait, is my car mixed up
in Ruby's murder?
Oisín's attacker didn't kill Ruby.
They leave bodies behind, not people.
Watch your tone, bud.
Vivienne, we've
printed more retractions than papers.
If you
I'm just giving you a taste of
what it will look like when I'm editor.
- Now, hold on a minute.
- Are you denying it?!
'Let's make it interesting.
Get that buffoon in'
- I'll make you editor.
- Okay. I'm in. Deal.
Still no sign of Oisín Markum.
Before Mallory skedaddled,
she stole a bunch of money from
this drug dealer, Albert.
He's gonna chop off all my fingers.
You know what he's gonna do
when he's finished them?
- Cut off your penis.
- What?!
Done for!
'Kilraven's mystery man.'
Yeah, I heard he had a couple
of tattoos, a chicken and a dog.
To my eyes, it's far more likely a pig.
I'm getting out of jail,
sooner than you think.
I'm going to make the real killer crack.
See, I've worked out their MO
and I know they can't help themselves.
(music fades)
(pleasant piano melody)
'They say you need a left wing
and a right wing to fly.'
'I don't believe that. Or in 'they'.'
'Or in the left. Or the right.
Or in any side.'
'No. To fly, you only need one thing'
(gull crying)
'Hope.'
'I'm Patsy Ruane,
your neighbour, friend
and fierce campaigner.'
'And in case you haven't guessed,
I hope to represent this piece of heaven
we call home.'
'Now, some people say
Kilraven's a strange town.'
'Me? I say,
- it's a great town for strangers.'
- How's Patsy?!
Our man, Patsy!
'A great town
that needs a great politician.'
(echoes of children playing)
'Two weeks remain in this election.
So, let's be bold and brave
and not miss this shot.'
(cheering)
'Now, my opponents are hitting me hard.
Claiming my stance on law
and order is weak.'
'But ask yourself,
are they pointing the finger
in the right direction?'
'And would they have the guts
to say something like this?'
'I'm Patsy Ruane, your neighbour,
friend and fierce campaigner.'
Cut! When am I gonna get
to use my own words?
The stuff I've always wanted
to say, not your flowery muck.
I let you write
the last billboard, didn't I?
Which ended up on my T-shirt,
cos we're broke!
What now?
The Chronicle have just published
your complete criminal record.
Right, this puts us back to
square one on law and order.
Emerson, the only crime
I'm guilty of committing,
- is loving Kilraven too much.
- No, no!
The only crimes you're guilty of
are supplying alcohol to minors,
- shoplifting, driving under the influence.
- The minors were the ones driving.
Driving without a licence, burning
without a permit, welfare fraud,
illegal fireworks and the timeless
classic: Public exposure.
Which, if we're getting all "legal",
was changed to public urination.
- Of course.
- You'll make this go away.
I'm not a magician!
Sue whoever write it then.
Getting info like that is illegal.
(background chatter)
It's not as simple as you think.
Why? Who did write it?
♪
(logo thump)
You better have a good reason
for dragging me here
in broad daylight this early
in the morning.
- What's all this?
- The reason why I dragged you here.
- You left the house?
- Do I look that stupid?
Looks and stupidity
aren't mutually exclusive.
I got this in the post from
my buddy, Denis.
He said, you two know each other,
actually, but
I don't know, he wouldn't say how.
Albert's dealing all over town.
Class A. Denis followed him,
took pictures, knows his drops,
who he's meeting.
And boy, is he meeting some beauts.
And you want me to do what
with all this?
Write the story. Once it's published
Albert's gonna have to leave town.
He's in with the cops, Elvira!
There is no other way!
And then there's
.. this one.
(burst of tense music)
She's working as a mule for Albert.
Skin and bone. Barely 20.
To do a bag drop twice a week.
Only, this week didn't go so good.
(tense music)
She must have come up short.
- (thwack) Argh!
- (clap) Bang!
Headbutt, broke her nose.
♪
That's clever.
Telling me about that young woman.
Trying to tug at my heart strings.
- Is it working?
- No.
'Cause my heart has no heart strings.
I've got too much going on to
dig into this.
But you promised you'd help.
Come up with something
less stupid and we'll talk.
(door opening, closing)
- It still makes no sense.
- I'm not in the sense-making business.
Rose gave Elvira Patsy's records
and you let her print them.
So anyone would think you we're
trying to sabotage the election.
Do you mean me or Elvira?
And what makes you so certain
Rose was Elvira's source?
Oh, because she just can't
let anything go.
As soon as she saw those
billboards, she had to hit back.
Well, if you ask me, it sounds like
both women are doing their jobs.
(knock on door)
Look, we go way back.
- We met a few weeks ago.
- So, take my advice.
The gap between confidence
and ignorance is nothing.
Quit bitching and fight.
Now, say goodbye, Emerson.
Goodbye, Emerson.
- Thanks. (muffled)
- Look, I know you're mad at me.
Mad? Me? Never.
'So, let's see what's really
going on here.'
'A hit piece like that could cost me
the whole election.'
Honestly, I thought you'd get
a kick out of it.'
'Do I look like I'm laughing?'
'Well, here's an idea.
When the election is over,
when Ruby's killer is found,
why don't we leave town?'
Is she testing him?
'Aren't you sick of working
for obnoxious human migraine?'
Nice touch!
'Done the big city thing.' 'And?'
'I'd rather be somebody here,
than a nobody out there.'
Boy, he wants this job bad!
(knock on door)
(clears throat)
All okay in the land of milk and honey?
Fine. How was your golf?
There was so much sand,
I was like Lawrence of Arabia.
Anyhoodle, Hughie?
Yeah, it's been nearly a week.
In case I need to prep for an interview,
any idea when you'll know
if he's getting out?
Mother's still mulling.
She hates Hughie.
Not because he's a murderer
but because he stole from her.
- So, there's a chance he stays put?
- Knowing her, every chance.
(Elvira sighs) Of course,
she's doing this to spite me.
Any time I ask for something,
she throws a spanner in the works.
Well, she is quite ill.
Not ill enough.
Sometimes I want to scream,
when will you FUCKING DIE?!
- Shit, your whole daddy thing.
- That's okay.
Good, because I hate saying sorry
and it looked like you
were gonna make me.
Well, if that's all, I have
a Ruby Conroy press briefing.
- Anything new?
- Just routine.
(door opening)
(door closing)
I'm not sure Hey, Agnes Dunford?
Former obituarist. Deceased.
Yeah, I'm afraid Agnes
has filed her last story
and gone on to the great
printing press in the sky.
Okay, thank you.
(phone rattles in cradle)
Hey, before you go.
I know a cool way you can apologise for
the Patsy thing without actually
apologising.
A bit late for a retraction.
Your James Doe story. I've got a lead.
- Anything useful?
- Nah, just a couple of tattoos.
And you want my blessing?
All you had to do was ask.
- Are you sure?
- Just don't ask twice!
'Press conference will begin
shortly, folks.'
Once Detective Mulcahy
has concluded her statement,
we will open the floor to questions.
(chatter)
This doesn't feel routine.
Talk is, they've footage
of the killer from the night
Ruby was murdered.
Somewhere near her house.
'This is an ambush. They'll all see me.'
'Walk, don't run.'
(cameras clicking)
Where are you off to?
(door closes)
I wouldn't want you to miss this.
Oh and, er, stick around after.
We need to talk, yeah?
(tense, low music)
(voice talking over Garda comms)
As you know, we have been
working tirelessly
on the Ruby Conroy case.
Today, I have an important update.
'Calm down. Act normal.'
Reviewing the facts.
We know the killer stole a vehicle
on the evening Ruby was killed.
We also know the killer surveyed
Ruby's house (camera clicks)
well before she was murdered.
They likely practiced
driving there and back.
Scoping out the most secluded routes,
leaving no CCTV footage
of the car theft,
(voice recedes) or its discovery
near the crime scene.
- 'At least I got that right.'
- However,
because the stolen vehicle broke down,
we believe the killer
was forced to flee on foot.
Meaning everything
that happened after that
was not preplanned.
- Meaning mistakes.
- 'She's the one making mistakes.'
'Our killer planned this to a T,
including fleeing on foot.'
Now, before I continue,
does anyone here know what
calving cameras are?
(murmuring)
'Cause you really need to get out
more, lads. (clears throat)
They're surveillance cameras,
used to monitor pregnant cows.
This is the feed from the night
Ruby Conroy was killed.
- 'Wait a minute, this isn't about me.'
- (murmuring grows louder)
(cameras clicking)
Post murder,
the killer cut through a field.
Due to car trouble they decided
they needed
a different form of transport.
(loud chatter)
(cameras clicking)
And since it hasn't been recovered yet,
we believe it may still be
in their possession.
It's a light grey, emerald back
mountain bike
and it has yellow front forks.
One more thing,
contrary to certain publications,
this doesn't fit the profile
of a serial killer.
Experts have reviewed it
and it's likely a one-time occurrence.
So
if we don't catch them soon,
there's every chance
we never catch them.
(clatter of camera shutters)
(footsteps, chatter)
You okay? You seem a little twitchy.
- I'm fine.
- Really?
- Should I not be?
- You tell me.
Anyone could be on that tape.
Exactly.
What, you still don't believe my story?
Is that why I'm here?
- Say something!
- (Detective Rose sniggers)
- What?
- I was wrong.
- About me?
- Yeah!
Yeah, you're more than a little twitchy.
You can have your car back now.
It's out in the car park.
(whisper) Needs a bit of a clean.
We kept it at Mick's father's farm.
D'you know, Mick was a mechanic
before the guards. He fixed it for you.
You know, I could arrest you right now.
(menacingly) For what?
Car tax. It's out of date.
See to it (keys jangling)
.. or I'll see ya in cuffs.
(tense music)
(chair rattling)
♪
(car approaching)
(tyres screeching) (gasp)
(window whooshing)
Denis.
You're Denis, right?
Somebody you know is in danger.
Don't know where Oisín is. Okay?
I'm not talking about Oisín.
I'm talking about your mother.
(window mechanism clicks)
(clock ticking)
(tense music)
- You okay?
- (Oisín sighs with relief)
Sounded a little manic on the phone.
(liquid gurgles) (Oisín sniffs)
Albert threatened Denis' Ma.
He's gonna hurt her if Denis
doesn't give me up.
Oh!
We're long past 'oh', Elvira!
I'm gonna kill him.
I'm sorry, but I can't let that happen.
Try and stop me, Elvira
and I'll blab to everyone
about your car.
Fine.
I'll write the story.
And then one of two things will happen.
- He'll leave town
- Or?
Or he'll come after me.
I'll lure him here and then we'll
- You know!
- Kill him!
You… kill someone?
(snigger)
Please!
- Two's better than one, Oisín.
- Okay!
But I do the killing. (she snorts)
Hold on. It's not that simple.
You mentioned self-defence.
I think I've a way I can make that work.
Well, he'll have to go clothes shopping.
- Who?
- Denis.
Online. Everything black.
Balaclava, the works.
- Are you sure you're up for this?
- That's not the right question.
Well, what is the right question?
Are you sure that when I'm doing this,
you're gonna be able to stomach it?
Ugh.
If I can stomach this wine,
I can stomach anything.
The idea of a paper taking
someone off the streets like this,
it's more than clicks and likes.
It's what newspapers were invented for.
It's also something that could
sink a newspaper.
As I was recently reminded,
I have a knack for publishing
unverified and poorly sourced material.
Then how about a second opinion?
(sharp intake of breath)
It's a great piece of work,
but
'But?!'
Printing this puts Elvira in danger.
It's malpractice at best,
manslaughter at worst.
Okay, let's not get all discoursey here.
Sorry but getting this story out there
is more important to me than anything.
More important than your safety?
Since when did
investigative journalism start
- letting nerves dictate the news?
- This has nothing to do with nerves.
Then maybe it has something
to do with me publishing
that article on Patsy and you
wanting to get even.
Even?! I'm talking about your safety,
you're talking about column inches!
Okay! Knock it off, you two!
Talk about putting my dick in a vice.
Okay, decision time. Here goes
Elvira's life means nothing to me.
I'm happy to publish!
- But
- 'What is it with the buts?!'
.. to quote my mother,
I am also responsible
for ensuring the paper doesn't get sued.
If harm came to you,
that's what would happen.
No. We don't publish.
- But
- Zip it!
(Elvira sighs)
Look (door closes)
- we go way back.
- No, we don't.
So, take my advice.
You don't like an answer I give,
don't stand there and blame me.
- Then who should I blame?
- Yourself.
Because you never should have
asked me the question in the first place.
If there's one thing I learnt
from my mother, it's this.
If you want something dirty done,
find someone dirty to do it.
(tense music)
Biggest paper in the province.
I've lined up an interview for ya.
- Does Emerson know?
- No.
Don't tell me you only do what
he tells you to do?
PATSY: The Chronicle is muzzling
one of its most promising
journalists, Elvira Clancy,
who is sitting on a story
that if left unpublished
(whispers) unpublished Jeopardises!
Jeopardises the safety of our town.
Especially its children.
We're talking murder and drugs
here. Listen, Elvira
Connacht Herald guy arrives
in two minutes.
Again! From the top!
(sighing) The Chronicle is muzzling
one of its most promising
journalists, Elvira Clancy,
'who is sitting on a story that if
left unpublished
jeopardises the safety'
(dynamic music)
This isn't just for me.
I did it for you and Patsy.
- Help bolster his law and order image.
- That's a lie.
At this point,
I thought we'd be beyond lies.
- 'Easier said than done.'
- So
.. the next time you decide to put
your life in danger
- It isn't in danger!
- I would love a heads up.
I deserve it.
Wow,
you used to do anything
to break a story.
Things change.
'So, I'm selfish.
Show me a killer who isn't.'
(door creaking)
(door closing)
"The Herald went and rumbled
our best source."
"Albert left in such a hurry,
that the mug of tea
next to the paper is still warm."
Uuurgh!
"Dispatch have just
reported a stolen black Subaru."
Keep digging there.
I'll look into his car.
- "Probably the same stolen car?"
- Yeah. No shit, Mick.
We're looking for a stolen car!
♪
(car engine starting)
(engine revving)
(engine growling)
'See you later.'
(tense music)
(car engine starting)
(engine revving angrily)
(tyres scraping wet tarmac)
(engine noise receding)
(door opening)
(door closing)
(Elvira exhales)
(door slams)
(approaching footsteps)
(tense music builds)
(music swells)
(footsteps get louder)
(phone ringing)
(female voice) 'Yeah.
Just here to greet the movers.'
'Just wanna check there's
no trace of you know what'
If it's a nice local family
I might knock off a few quid,
considering what happened here.
As for out of towners?
Not a penny below asking price!
Now, that's non-negotiable.
Have a think about it.
Get back to me in the morning.
This is Albert's car.
Someone spotted him.
Tried to make a citizen's arrest.
He got spooked.
Two hours ago, this car, along with a
picture of you inside it, Elvira
was found abandoned at Holyhead.
He's booked on the Eurostar.
(tense, echoing music)
You know, us leaving town,
fresh start
Maybe it is a good idea.
Let's talk about it after the elections.
We'll have a better perspective
on things then.
Are are you coming?
No. I'm waiting for this phone call
from my tattoo expert for James Doe.
How long will you be?
How long is a piece of string?
Here!
My notes from when I interviewed him.
Might help pass the time.
(music rumbles)
(door creaking)
(tense music builds)
(water hissing)
(cupboard door closing)
(unsettled low-level music)
(music builds)
(water gurgling)
(music intensifies)
Oh no
(gasping, muffled struggle)
(music recedes)
(ELVIRA'S VOICE) 'Confess'.
'Who should confess? Me?'
'Done for?'
'I'm done for?
Is that what he's saying?'
(phone ringing)
Yeah.
Hello? Yes. Thank you for
returning my call.
Yeah, I'm in a total bind
with this tattoo thing,
so any help you have would be great.
(Elvira exhales)
(she sighs)
(slow, careful breathing)
(struggling grunts)
(frightened gasps)
We have something to settle.
(deep exhale)
If you want to kill me,
kill me.
Maybe I will. But first,
your computer password.
I'm going for a slash.
When I get back, you'll either
tell me what I want
.. or I'll make you tell me.
(door creaking)
(pissing)
I hate to ask! (ladder rattling)
Could you lift the toilet seat?
Also if you could wash your hands,
that would be just great.
(zip fastening)
- (teasing) Clean as a whistle.
- Ugh!
Ether and now this cattle prod thing.
What kind of craic are you up
to in your spare time?
Well, thank you. Thank you for
the history lesson. (short laugh)
Who knew 19th century maritime traditions
were yet another one of my blind spots.
But look, just, just so
I'm very clear here,
tattoos of a chicken and
a pig one each foot mean what?
My guy was in the navy?
Great, great. Well, thank you.
Tha No, no. I've taken up
enough of your precious time.
Alright.
(sigh)
(mischievous music)
(quickened breathing)
I wouldn't fancy being on
the wrong end of this yoke!
9,000 volts!
(he sighs)
(electricity fizzing)
I won't make it to your belly button.
Password, now!
(sharp inhale)
Monkeyballs123!
What?
I'm just surprised
Monkeyballs12 was taken.
(keys tapping)
You really think I'd headbutt that girl,
that chick working for me?
I wouldn't harm a hair on her head.
Yet, you lied about me.
'God damn it, Oisín!'
So, we're gonna send an email.
Hit up every one of your contacts.
Take back that line.
'Advances'? What's that?
(nervous) Nothing.
Ah
Shit!
(door creaking)
(door closing)
The fuck? Some of
these people are still alive.
In my spare time, I write them
for people who might die soon.
There's one there for me.
(music builds)
♪
(tense whisper) Oisín's here.
He wouldn't go home
until he heard you'd been arrested.
(whisper) Where is he?
(knuckles cracking)
(Elvira sighs with relief)
♪
You know what?
Oisín can wait.
Aaargh!
(loud clang)
(panting)
(music builds)
(exhale)
Is he dead?
- He isn't moving.
- (door whacking)
I'm not taking any chances.
(door slamming)
(lock turning)
Tool kit. Get it! Then untie me.
(plastic snipping)
(engine roaring)
♪
Okay, where were we?
Well, we have a, a body to dress
before Emerson gets back.
- (message pings)
- Well, that could be him.
- Ignore it!
- I'm sorry, I can't.
- What?!
- It's a voicemail.
If I don't listen to it,
I won't be able to concentrate.
- Are you fucking serious?!
- Two seconds.
"You have one new voice message,
received today at 8:23pm"
(message bips)
(ALBERT) "I'm gonna kill you, bitch."
(phone goes dead)
'I'm coming for you, bitch!'
(loud bangs)
- 'I'm gonna fucking kill you!'
- I thought you said he was dead?
I must have missed that day
in medical school.
(loud bang) Argh!
(banging, ranting continues)
He'll tire himself out.
That door is rock solid.
When he does, we'll rush him
- Yeah. Then I'll kill him.
- Yeah!
Urgh! Oof
Okay, no problem.
(banging, grunting)
'You're fuckin' dead!'
Urgh! Urgh!
(brake creaking)
(car door opening)
(door closing)
(anxious breathing)
(thud, clang)
(bang)
(banging continues)
(angry grunt)
(banging continues)
- Elvira
- Yeah?
- You don't think he could
- (loud bangs)
No.
(loud bang)
(plaster cracking)
Urgh!
(load roaring)
(struggling)
(sickening crack)
(pained grunting)
Ah ah!
(grunting)
Ah!
(music intensifies)
(fizzing) (groaning)
I dunno how long that's gonna hold.
Aaaagh Yagh! AAAARGH!
(polite knocking)
(latch clicking)
Hi. Er, sorry, I'm hoping
you can help me.
You don't know me but you
know my girlfriend, Elvira.
Yeah.
Quiet girl, keeps to herself.
(frightened gasp)
- You said you could do this.
- I meant what I said.
- You can't kill me.
- Yes, I can!
- Don't listen to him.
- No, no. Not a chance!
- Right, Oisín, let's go.
- I've seen killers before, lad.
- You're not it.
- Is that so?
- But her, she's it.
- Shut up.
- She can do it!
- Oisín
- Check her computer.
- Did I not say ' "shut up"?
- What's he talking about?
- Don't mind him, Oisín.
Those files. 'Advances'. You need
to see 'em to see what she does!
- Elvira, what?
- Look at me, Oisín. You can do this!
Your friend there. She's
not who she says she is.
- You gotta kill him now.
- Why 'advances'?
- You've gotta kill him, Oisín!
- She's a liar, kiddo!
- Oisín, kill him!
- She's a professional liar!
- For fucks sake!
- No No, please! Aargh!
(squelching) (Albert groaning)
(Oisín groans in anguish)
(panting)
(dark music)
(eerie voice sings)
You lied about him
headbutting that girl.
No It was Denis' idea. He said
you'd need a little push.
You'll see that Denis keeps
his mouth shut?
That you both will, right?
- Right?
- Yeah.
Now, those clothes,
where are they?
He was a doddery old man.
He could barely talk
and when he did,
James Doe made no sense.
Is there anything else you remember?
- Anything he said? Anything at all?
- Nope. Sorry.
Wait, wait, wait, wait, please. Erm
Okay
He did tell me one thing.
That I was done for.
(sighs) (short chuckle)
Not done for.
- Dunford.
- What?!
He wasn't telling you you're done for.
He was telling you his name.
(tense music)
(thud)
(zip unfastening)
- Do you need me to do anything?
- Head back to your trailer!
And hurry.
You were never here.
I'll sort this place out.
(light switch flicking)
Okay, okay
(keypad clicking)
'For over three decades,
Agnes was the heart behind
this paper's obituaries.
A role she approached with
both reverence and wit.'
'Agnes is survived by her brother,
Michael Dunford,
a former member of the Royal
Australian Navy, residing in Brisbane.
Despite the physical distance
for over 40 years, thanks to email,
their bond remained unbreakable,
a testament to the enduring
strength of family.'
(sigh)
♪
(awed whisper) Michael Dunford.
(door opening)
(heavy breathing as musical rhythm)
(primal scream)
(camera whirring)
(camera clicking)
(trembling voice) Is he alive?
Not remotely.
(camera whirring)
(tense music)
Can I get you anything?
(plaintive) Sleep.
Honestly, I've not closed my
eyes properly since the funeral.
You know, something tells me
this wasn't your first.
First what?
(insistent) First what?
Kill.
What makes you say that?
Out with it. The truth.
I'm sorry, I don't know what
you're talking about.
(sarcastic laugh)
- What's so funny?
- Nothing.
Gotcha a present.
- Did ya?
- Yeah!
It's called proof.
He's the one who has killed before.
He broke into my house,
he hid in my loft.
You heard the voicemail he left
me. He was going to kill me, Rose!
It was self-defence.
Now, no-one knows this,
so you can consider it an exclusive.
But guess what Ruby Conroy
was killed with?
- I dunno.
- I'll give you a clue.
Same thing Albert was killed with.
'No way?!'
A screwdriver. So, what am I to think?
Two people dead,
both with a screwdriver.
And you balls deep in both deaths.
(smacks table) Come on, Elvira!
Tell me what really happened.
(quiet sobs)
I killed Ruby's killer.
And
And?
You can read all about it
in this week's paper.
It'll be my last column before
I'm appointed editor.
(Rose sniffs)
Okay.
So, he's dressed like Ruby's killer.
And he brought a screwdriver with him.
But why would he want to kill you both?
This whole media thing? Not buying it.
- Jesus, Rose, isn't it obvious?
- Your article in the paper.
And the fact I called him
a bed wetter on TV!
Oh
Oh, I know what's wrong!
You said he wouldn't strike again
and he has.
Oh, but just think about it, Rose.
Think about Ruby's parents.
When you tell them the man that
killed their daughter is dead.
(chair creaks)
(tape clicks)
Honestly?
I couldn't give a flying fuck
about Ruby's parents.
No.
No
This whole thing stinks.
I dunno what it is,
but something is off here.
D'you know it was Mick who gave
me Patsy Ruane's criminal record?
(whispering)
I think he has a crush on ya.
Didn't like those billboards. Wanted
to save ya the embarrassment.
But I wonder!
- Oh, you are some bitch!
- Will he come
to your rescue when they find out
that Albert was your snitch?
Albert, of course, who we now
know was a killer.
Right now, only me and you know this.
(mock threateningly) But it might
end up in next week's paper.
Then again, it might not.
Your call, I guess.
(tape clicks)
♪
Mick'll sort you out with a jumper.
Have you got somewhere to go?
I'll figure it out.
(door opening)
(door slamming)
♪
So, Albert killed Ruby,
and then tried to kill, Elvira?
Dark clothes, screwdriver.
The calving footage, voicemail.
Plus journalists. I mean
It fits.
And yet, something's bugging you?
She can have her lap of honour.
But we still keep an eye on her, okay?
♪
(shop bell clanging)
Hey!
Guess what? Mrs Birch came good.
Well, look at that.
You've a bit of blood in your ear.
I hope it's not your own.
♪
Oh, my God!
Are you okay?
Only time will tell.
♪
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