Moone Boy

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?