O: Good mornin', sunshine.
Otis: Uh... Uh, no. No, excuse me. Oh! What... what are you doing in my house?
O: I, uh... popped by to see your mum.
Otis: Okay.
O: I've got a free period, so... Oh, um... you've... you've just got a few crumbs in your neck brace. What happened, by the way?
Otis: None of your business.
O: Look, Otis, you don't have to be like that. I know that things got a little bit tense at the debate, but it's a competition.
Otis: Tense? You lied about me in front of the entire college.
O: I didn't lie. And you outed me in front of the entire college.
Sean: This is great. This is... fab. It really... I mean... I mean, it's complete crap. Maeve: Shut up.
Sean: But it is beautifully... beautifully crafted.
Celebrant: Thank you.
Maeve: Stop it.
Sean: I actually think I might add to it.
Maeve: No. No, no, no. Sean.
Sean: If you don't mind if I say a few words... Thank you.
Maeve: Please don't.
Sean: About my mother.
Maeve: Sean.
Sean: My darling mummy died doing what she loved. drŐ˝g. Oh, come on. We weren't all buying that "she's a bright star in the sky" stuff. Were we? No, I think it would actually be much more appropriate if I, as her son, shared a few stories of Erin from our childhood. Should I tell them about the games we used to play? Shall I? Number one. Ahem. Football in the dark. This was a good one, where Mum would kick us out of our caravan in the middle of the night, so that she could get high and then screw some guy called Greg. Then, there was, of course, "ciggie hunting" or "hunt the cigarette," which is when we used to go to the park and had to get on our hands and knees and search in the mud for cigarette butts that were just long enough for Mum to smoke 'cause we had run out of money. And then... I've got loads of these. I can keep going. There was my favorite...
Maeve: Stop it, Sean. That's enough. You're humiliating yourself.
Sean: Come off it, sis. As if a fancy dress and a nice photo is gonna convince anyone in this room that our mum was nothing but a dirty junkie.
Maeve: Get out. Get out!
Sean: Fine. With pleasure. Bye, Mum.
