[dramatic orchestral music]
♪ ♪
[choir vocalizing]
♪ ♪
- Has "GQ Magazine" called, sir?
- No, why?
- Because it looks like
you're ready to be on the cover.
- Aww.
- That was so fucking sweet.
You're so much better than
old Owen, new Owen.
- I try, sir.
After all, you are the future king.
- I know.
Thank you.
- And what a glorious king you will be.
Songs will be written about your rule.
Armies will fight in your name.
Statues will be built in your honor.
- Ooh, a statue.
We should get on that right now.
You know what, new O?
Why don't we go shopping after school today?
We'll get you some face cream or something,
to help with--
all that.
- Oh, sir.
Your generosity knows no bounds.
To think that someone as insignificant as myself co--
- Okay, okay, I'm late for breakfast.
But text me the rest of that.
I liked where it was going.
[silverware clanging]
- Lovely jubbly that the whole family is together.
- Yeah, fucking lovely.
Camilla, do you have anything you want to add?
"It's hot, it's hot" perhaps?
- That was total bullshit!
- You're right, Mummy,
she should have kept her big mouth shut!
This is the way it has to be now, darling.
- You look gorgeous this morning.
Shall we, you know, later?
- I would very much like to,
you know,
later.
- Ugh, I preferred you two the other way.
- We still haven't heard about all your adventures in L.A.
- Ooh, remind me to tell them the story
about when I bought milk.
- I think you just told it.
- Mary?
Where's Mary?
- Yes, your Majesty.
- Oh, there you are.
Hey, girl.
Listen, at tea today,
I want that thing.
- And to what thing are you referring, ma'am?
- You know, the thing.
The thing.
- The--
the flummery tart?
Uh, but, we--
- But you what, Mary?
- We thought you didn't want it any longer.
My mistake, of course,ma'am.
The flummery tart today at tea.
- Oh, my god.
- I know.
- What's their deal, anyway?
And where the fuck is Charlotte?
[upbeat accordion music]
- [speaking French]
- Do you have it?
What is this?
I meant the files.
- Keep it down.
The flash drive is hidden in the baguette.
- Oh.
- Yeah, oh.
I'm a fucking professional.
And George is becoming a problem,
I think he's on to me.
- Then your next assignment...
is to eliminate the problem.
- I can't do that.
He's my brother.
[clicks]
- Eliminate the problem.
Oh, leave the baguette, would you?
I have eggs coming.
[bell rings]
- Do you guys want to come over?
I finally figured out the parental lock on my TV.
- What?
Can we watch "Fleabag"?
- Oh, my God, yes.
I hear Phoebe Waller-Bridge is sensational.
- You guys haven't seen "Fleabag"?
What the fuck do you do after school?
- Your homework.
- Whatever.
- Well, would you want to watch it again?
- It's five years old,
so no.
♪ You're toxic, I'm slippin' under ♪
♪ With a taste of a poison paradise ♪
- Ciao, bitches.
[both exhale]
- I'm glad I have you.
- I'm glad I have you too.
- I think we're safe in assuming
you have problem skin.
So go pick out anything for yourself in the, say,
how about 20-to-30-pound range?
- Why, sir, you're too generous.
Hand soap from a public toilet is
good enough for my poor, withered--
- Yeah, yeah. Just go pick something.
Jesus, that's getting old.
Where the fuck is everyone?
Hello?
Can I get a salesman?
- Yes, sir, how can I help y--
- Owen?
- Your Royal Highness,
how wonderful to see you.
You're looking well.
- You look good too.
You know, for whatever age you are.
So...
this is where you work now?
- Part-time, yes.
- Oh, okay, thanks for making it worse.
So how's the tiny garden?
- You remember!
It's doing very well, sir.
The forsythias are in bloom.
- You were always a slut for a forsythia.
- I miss you, sir.
- Aw, O.
I miss you t--
- I found something for £5, sir,
that's more than adequate for my--
Oh.
Hello, Owen.
- Yes, hello.
- Splendid to see you've landed on your feet.
Well, we should be going, sir.
You do have an appointment with the sculptor.
- Oh, right.
I'm doing a statue; they asked.
It's a whole thing.
- Of course.
Lovely to see you, sir.
- Yeah, you too.
- Well,
ta-ta.
[finger squeaks on glass]
Oh, and the glass is a bit streaked, dear.
Might want to clean that.
[tense music]
- Fuck, fuck.
I can't believe you fucking killed them all.
- Yeah, with a flamethrower.
[mimes flamethrower]
- I said "take care" of them.
- It was implied, and you know it.
Now I feel bad.
- Can anyone else make the tarts?
Belinda, can you make them?
- They never wanted to give me the recipe.
Also, they didn't talk.
- Perfect. This is just perfect.
- I thought the whole idea was
no one could make them except the monsters.
Like, wasn't that their whole shtick?
- Not helping, Teddy.
Oh, God.
- It's going to be okay. I'm here.
- [cries]
I need you now, Greg.
Don't leave me.
- You are fucked.
- Well, what are we going to do?
If the Queen's not eating that tart at tea time,
we're all screwed.
- ♪ And you know that you're toxic ♪
[hums instrumental]
Oh, look, the gang's all here.
- Hello, Kevin.
- Who died?
- The Queen wants that tart again,
but we don't know how to make it.
- That tart?
- Yes, the flummery tart.
And tea is in an hour.
I fucking hate her!
- You know, I think I might be able to manage.
- Oh, my God. Really, Kevin?
- I think so, yes.
Leave it to me.
- Well...
that's grand, then.
- Yes, isn't it?
Let me give it a go.
[eerie music]
- Another day, another afternoon tea.
I can barely contain my excitement.
- It's the breakfasts that kill me.
- Oy, you, move.
Move. [laughs]
Arseholes.
- Someone really needs to get that kid under control.
- Well,
look who it is.
Why'd they come back?
Isn't that odd?
- I was thinking the same thing.
They're up to something.
- Yes...
something sinister.
♪ Over, under, around and through ♪
♪ Meet Mr. Bunny Rabbit, pull and through! ♪
I did it.
- Good job, Harry.
- Hey, guys.
So funny bumping into you.
- Yeah, I mean, we all live here now, so.
Not that funny.
- [laughs] Ohh, you're hilarious, Meghan.
Why did you move back here anyway?
- Uh, it was ultimately a tough call,
but there were a lot of factors to consider.
- We couldn't get jobs,
and we ran out of money.
We ate chicken out of bowls,
and rode in big cars full of smelly people
to something called "work".
Every day was a new nightmare.
- [laughs]
There were highs and lows; it's all good.
Anyway, see you guys at tea.
Come on, Harry.
- It's untied again.
- Just keep walking.
- Time to turn the fuck up.
- Hey, Gan Gan,
have you ever missed a servant you got rid of?
- Is this, like, a joke?
- Are you okay?
- Yeah.
It's my birthday.
- I know.
- Aww.
- Try to keep the chatter down, hm, Camilla?
Doesn't Camilla talk too much, Mummy?
Isn't she the worst?
- Yes.
I like when you shit on her.
This is a good area for you.
- Then I will shit on her day and night, Mummy.
I'm doing this for us, darling.
- Sorry, I'm late.
I was playing with my dolls.
- I don't believe you.
I don't believe a word that comes out of your mouth.
- Woof, you look bloated, George.
I can always tell when you've had pancakes for breakfast.
- I had one.
It's this shirt.
Ugh, I can't be a fat statue.
Look at the two of them plotting.
What do you think they're saying?
- I haven't yet pooped yet today.
- Okay, well, thanks for that.
- I don't know.
But they're definitely up to something.
[line trilling]
- Where are you, Owen?
- Hey, Mary.
Where's the thing?
You know, that thing.
- Yes, ma'am, the flummery tart.
They're being prepared now.
- Oh, well, by all means,
take your fucking time.
- You're too easy on them, Liz,
that's the problem.
What do they do all day?
- Boy, he really got a second wind.
- I need you now more than ever, Greg.
I love you.
I...
love you too.
- I want those fucking tarts!
- [screams] They're coming!
[eerie music]
- It's all right, everyone.
I'm here with you now.
I'll avenge us all.
And now, my little tarts,
you will finish my work for me.
Just one final ingredient.
[intense tones]
- Poison.
Fuck.
Where'd it go?
I just had it.
God damn it.
Poison, poison, poison...
If I were a box of...
Ah, here it is.
Poison.
- It's you.
I knew it.
Hello, Edmund.
Would you care for a flummery tart?
I'm very good at making them.
You could even say...
it's in my blood.
- No, I never liked them--
always too sweet, and with a weird aftertaste--
but that's not why I don't want one!
- You killed my entire family,
and now you'll pay.
Every last one of you.
Even that insufferable little shit George.
- He's annoying; I'll give you that one.
But you'll never get away with this, Kevin.
- I'm sorry, I can't hear you.
Would you mind coming closer, please?
- I said--
you'll never get away with this, Kevin--
[grunts]
- Oh, I think I already have.
♪ With a taste of your lips, I'm on a ride ♪
♪ You're toxic, I'm slipping under ♪
♪ With a taste of a poison paradise ♪
♪ I'm addicted to you ♪
♪ Don't you know that you're toxic? ♪
["Toxic" instrumental plays]
♪ ♪
- Oh, no.
- What is it, lovey?
- I have to go.
It's George.
He's in trouble.
[tense tone]