Catastrophe

~ Thanks. ~ Thank you.

You won't be able to do that for much longer.

~ Which part? ~ Toss me about like a sack of radishes. ~ Yeah, I will.

You're sexier pregnant than you are not pregnant

and it gives me super strength.

I'll fuck you and then throw you up on top of the refrigerator.

~ What will I do up there? ~ I don't care.

You know how we were talking about doing the godparents thing?

YOU were talking about it

because you want to ask that Irish writer dude that you barely know.

I don't barely know him. I know him. I went to the same school as him.

And I just think it would be great for our child

to have someone of that cultural significance in his life.

In YOUR life.

Anyway, you have to christen a child

if you want to have godparents so I think we should do that.

If I thought you halfway believed in that shit

I'd christen it three times, but you don't.

~ We can't not christen the baby, Rob! ~ Why? It's bullshit.

~ You know that godparents have to renounce the devil? ~ So what?

How weird is that?

A bunch of adults standing around a baby,

pretending to believe in the devil so they can renounce him.

~ The baby won't know. ~ Yeah, but we'll know. ~ We don't care. ~ I care!

Well, why don't we just have a naming ceremony?

Because that is a bullshit California yoga retreat

load of bullshit and my parents would kill me.

The best case scenario is we ask your Patrick O'Heaney

to be godfather and he's like "OK," and then he changes his phone number

and writes a poem about what assholes we are.

I don't know.

I just think there's pros in raising your kid

just a little bit religious.

Like, God is like the best friend of a lazy parent.

"Why is the sun yellow?" "God's favourite colour is yellow.

"Now go upstairs so I can give Dad a special hug

"and make you a little sister."

OK, well, that makes sense. It all comes back to love.

Are you nervous about meeting my parents tomorrow?

~ Yeah, but manageably. You? ~ Dunno.

My dad's pretty hard to talk to.

He's like a piece of granite with bushy eyebrows.

~ What about your mom? ~ She's magical.

~ You'll like her better than you like me. ~ Great.

How's she doing in the boob department?

Well, she only has one since her mastectomy a couple of years back.

But it's pretty big.

Oh. OK.

~ Terrible flight. Turbulence. Fuckin' Ryanair. ~ Des.

~ They sat me next to a Turkish. ~ A Turkish what?

~ A Turkish man. ~ Right.

~ From Turkey. ~ Right, right.

Let me just check on the tea.

Doesn't get any better than this, does it?

~ Your brother's place? ~ Oh, yeah, it's lovely.

~ He's doubled his money on this place. ~ He hasn't doubled his money.

The money doubled itself. He just sat there.

~ I'll go and help with the tea. ~ Where are you going?

~ You're an American? ~ I love Ireland.

I'm sorry. I was just saying, I love Ireland.

~ Have you been? ~ I want to.

What've they been doing since they got here?

What have they been doing? You saw it.

Growing mushrooms out of their arseholes on my couch.

I told them I was going to the office earlier

and I hid in the girl's bedroom just to have some fucking peace.

I had to take a piss into a sippy cup.

Can I tell them? This is taking too long.

No! You are an observer today, OK? Like the UN.

You say a syllable and I'll cut your hands off.

Whatever happened to that Owen fella? He was around for a while.

He moved to Africa, didn't he, Sha?

~ Yeah. Yeah. He had to go to Africa. ~ He was a good man.

Well, I won't be running off to Africa any time soon.

I don't even know where it is!

So, Mum, Dad, we've got something we'd like to tell you.

Talk to you about.

Lovely news I think will make you very happy and that's...

.. we're getting married!

~ Congratulations. ~ Thanks, Mum.

I thought you were going to tell us you were pregnant for a minute!

And I'm pregnant. That's also part of this.

Your dad will warm up.

I mean, Fergal and I are practically...

I wouldn't say brothers yet but maybe like cousins

who are also good friends.

We bonded when he came with me to pick out your ring.

And we both laughed when your dad farted at the TV

~ when Tottenham scored that goal. ~ Everybody laughed at that.

Yeah, but I think Fergal and I the hardest.

Hey, why don't we ask Fergal to be the godfather?

He's not technically an adult in the eyes of the church.

~ What? ~ He missed his confirmation cos he had the measles

and then he refused to do it the following year

cos he'd a growth spurt and a moustache by then.

Also, fuck him! I don't want him to do it.

Your mom cornered me at one point and asked me where I go to mass.

~ What did you say? ~ Saint Mary's?

~ How are we feeling? ~ Fine, I guess. Not terrible.

I mean, emotionally, I suppose, I'm like...

~ A dumpster fire? ~ A bit up and down. ~ Good.

Now, I do have something we need to discuss that is somewhat serious.

~ It's full cancer now? ~ No, no. No, it's not that.

We've been catching up on screenings your first doctor didn't do.

One of them is the combined test

and that tells us if there's a chromosomal abnormality.

~ What does that mean? ~ It would mean that there's a higher risk

of your baby having Down's Syndrome.

~ Because in a geriatric pregnancy... ~ Geriatric!

It's just a term.

But according to the combined test,

you're looking at a one in 50 risk that your child has Down's Syndrome.

Well, Christ! One in 50? That's not that bad.

~ What are you? A sadist? ~ Sharon! ~ No, why do I need to know that?

Because the risk should ideally be three times as low

and I'm required to tell you that

in case you need to prepare for a substantially different

child-rearing experience.

Some people decide they won't ever be ready for that.

~ Why... ~ Where are my knickers? Er...

Could you think up or make up some good news

~ for the next time we come in? ~ Erm, OK. ~ Thank you.

Oh. Hey, Melissa. She just came in. OK. Thank you.

~ Where the hell have you been? ~ I walked to Croydon.

~ OK. Is that far? ~ About 13 miles.

Well, if you ever need to do that again,

~ please let me shadow you from a block back or something. ~ OK.

What are we going to do?

Why couldn't you come over here and got me pregnant ten years ago?

~ What the hell were you up to then? ~ Nothing that cool.

Can't I just enjoy my fucking pregnancy?

Why can't I go to the doctor one time

and not get a bombshell that makes me want to rip all my hair out?

When I see a happy pregnant woman on the street I want to punch her!

I know. I'm so sorry.

I don't expect this to make you feel better right now

but the fucking math of it all is still in our favour,

even if it's worse math than most people get? I don't know.

~ Maths. ~ Maths! Fuck maths!

Fuck each math!

My Uncle Kenny has Down's Syndrome and he's a cool guy.

~ Your Uncle Kenny? ~ Yeah. He showed me my first picture of a boob.

It was from like a breast health pamphlet or something.

I'm sure your Uncle Kenny was fun to hang out with when you were little

but do you hang out with him now? Because somebody has to.

They need more help for ever! Are you ready for that?

Well, I haven't seen him in... But that's not the point. The point is...

I don't know if I'm a good enough person

~ to be able to look after a disabled child. ~ Neither am I, but...

A friend of mine's brother had Down's Syndrome

and his parents were still looking after him in their 70s.

And then the dad died and it was just the mum left.

I used to see them in the supermarket

and she never once looked anything but old and really, really tired.

Who fucking whistles their way round a supermarket?

Maybe they went home, smoked a joint,

watch Judge Judy and had a great time?

~ What do you want to do? ~ Do you mind if we don't talk about it any more?

~ It's not going to happen. ~ But if it did... ~ It's not.

Put it this way -

imagine you've got a one in 100 chance of winning the lottery...

~ It's one in 50. ~ Fine.

One in 50 chance of winning the lottery if you buy a ticket.

~ Feeling good about your chances? ~ No, but...

There you go, if you're not going to win that,

~ why would you win this one? ~ That's a good point.

Side point, the lottery is for mouth breathing idiots

and should be illegal.

My cunt dad pissed every pay cheque away at Ladbrokes

till the day he shot himself in our barn.

Fuck, that is good cake.

Oh, by the way. Fran thinks I'm having an affair.

She found the receipts from all our din-dins

and jumped to conclusions so I had to tell her I'd been out with you.

~ What? ~ It's all right. She wants to meet you and sort it out. ~ Why?

No, I'm sorry. This is not a good time...

Don't be a bastard! Life goes on!

So man up and talk to my wife for me.

~ Spleeny? That's not word. ~ Yeah, it is. It's a word.

~ Spleeny? ~ Yeah, spleeny.

Like, if I walk into a room where there's a pile of human spleens...

Yeah. You'd say, "It smells a bit spleeny in here."

What? No! We said we weren't looking things up.

Rob, don't!

~ Who's calling you? ~ Who's calling me?

~ Yeah. ~ Er... Oh, Chris.

Fran found out Chris and I were dating

and he wants me to go and talk to her.

~ You bellend. ~ Spleeny works. That's... you win.

Yes! BANANAS!