"Letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I would',
like the poor cat i' the adage?"
That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold.
What hath quenched them hath given me fire.
Hark!
Peace.
It was the owl that shrieked.
The fatal bellman, which gives the stern'st goodnight.
He is about it.
The doors are open, and the surfeited grooms
do mock their charge with snores.
I have drugged their possets,
that death and nature do contend about them, whether they live...
Or die.
Aagh.
The bloody knife is real! Oh, Jesus!
Oh, God!
I'm not superstitious, not in the slightest.
I don't pay that sort of thing any sort of attention.
Quite right.
But I went to this party and there was this woman there.
- Maureen. - Did you get a second name?
- No. - Description?
Maybe we should find out what the issue is first.
Go ahead. In your own time.
Well, she was kind of like a, er...
you know... a witch.
Like an actual witch?
Well, no.
I mean, she wasn't wearing a pointy hat or anything.
She... She claimed to have the gift.
Second sight, I think they call it.
She could see into the future and she saw me...
- dying on stage. - In a bad performance sense?
In a not living any more sense.
Yeah, I'm... I'm not sure how we would investigate a prediction.
I... I know how this sounds,
but, like I said, I am not superstitious.
But I am just about to begin a run of... Macbeth...
- Hm? - Macbeth, at the Dalton.
- More witches. - This is a big deal for me.
It's my first lead and Maureen has given me the willies.
Look, I know it's twaddle,
but I'd feel better knowing you were looking into it.
I'm sorry, Marcus, you seem like a nice fella
but Fergus is right, there's nothing to investigate.
Let's not be so hasty.
Fergus could do with a dive into Shakespeare.
It's going to be in your next term at Trinity.
Yeah, yeah.
You know what? He could go undercover.
I could get you in as a stagehand.
- Sure, yeah. - I'm sorry, Marcus.
Could you give us a moment to confer?
Sure.
Shouldn't we agree unanimously
on which cases the agency takes on?
No. I mean, you've just rocked up here.
As far as I'm concerned, you're the intern.
I've got years of experience with investigations, Mother.
A lot of people would be happy to have my input.
Good! So, go work for them.
- So-- - We'll look into your case, Marcus.
The lighting rig is still down.
I don't understand why it's not up if we're gonna have actors on the stage.
All of this was discussed in the production meeting.
- Ruth? - Why hasn't it been done? I don't understand.
- Ruth? - Why didn't you do it?
Excuse me, Ruth, um...
Ferg, this is Ruth Baird, the producer.
Ruth, this is my cousin, Fergus, I told you about.
You want to work in a theatre, do you? What can you do?
Anything. I like to work.
Music to my ears. Any good with a hammer and nails?
Try me.
- Hiya. - All right?
Er... I'm... I...
This could be great for the Dalton,
a real talking point.
You want me to take out 30 stall seats
just so Hugo can satisfy his latest whim?
To keep him happy. A happy Hugo is an engaged Hugo.
Which means we'll stay on schedule.
Which means I won't get another ulcer
and we both know he'll go off the idea by opening night.
How about this? You can have the extra stage
if you guarantee the lost revenue to the house.
- Fine. - Don't be so hasty.
If this run isn't a success, you'll lose a lot of money.
It's going to be a hit.
Oh, right.
Why don't you and I grab a drink?
And you can try and convince me.
- Who was that with Ruth? - Oh, that's Sam Dalton.
Dalton? As in Dalton theatre?
Yeah. His grandfather opened it 50-odd years ago.
Heard of Guy Dalton? He was a film star.
Worked with all the old greats. Ah, Jimmy Stewart, Kirk Douglas.
- Elizabeth Taylor? - Nnn?
Then as he got older, he started thinking about his legacy
and decided to open up a theatre in his ancestral home.
- And now his grandson runs it? - It's the age of the nepo baby.
- Coming through. - Gather, ye! Gather, ye.
Gather, ye. Quiet, please!
Marcus, my marvellous Macbeth, don't think.
Act three, scene one.
"Now, if you have a station..."
Go!
Now, if you have a station in the file,
not i' the worst rank of manhood, say it,
and I'll put that business in your bosom
whose execution takes your enemy off...
- I just need to use the loo. - ...grapples you to the heart
- and love of us... - My liege.
The vile blows and buffets of the world
hath so incensed that I am reckless
what I do to spite the world.
And I another, so weary with desire--
No, stop, stop, stop!
- Are you bored? - No.
You're going to murder a man,
an important man, a king no less,
and you sound like you'd rather be doing something else.
Playing your X-Box maybe?
- Playing your bongos? - Bongos?
Look, a good director never tells an actor
that his interpretation of a character is wrong or bad.
Yours isn't bad, it's just not good.
You're joking? I gave up a part in Dublin Streets for this.
Look, what we do here, in this place,
in this Eden,
in this Xanadu,
when we utter the great Bard's words,
it brings us closer to God.
A shitty daytime soap cannot do that.
It does not elevate. It does not caress our souls.
It does not carry us in its sweet embrace.
But it pays the rent.
My heart is broken.
Go, with love, my friend.
Hugo, come on,
it's two days before we open and now we have to replace him.
Beautiful Ruthie. Sweet Ruthie.
He was not the right fit.
Now we have no Second Murderer.
Dionysus will come to our rescue.
Well, Dionysus better bloody hurry up.
Look, what did I tell you?
- Him? - Jesus!
I love your energy. And your look!
The dreads, they are perfect.
There you go, Ruth. Dionysus has brought us a new murderer.
Welcome to the theatre, young man.
I checked the old files after you called.
There's been several deaths at the Dalton.
- Well, any-- - Any of them suspicious?
Not overtly. Several of the audience members
have died of heart attacks, strokes, that sort of thing.
- All natural causes. - Well, I mean, not surprising,
considering the average age of theatre audiences.
Exactly! But there was one thing that did stand out.
You said this death-yet-to-be was linked to a run of Macbeth.
- Right? - That's right.
Well, there have been three other productions of Macbeth
at the Dalton where someone died on stage,
all on opening night.
How come no one spotted this before?
What is there to spot?
They've all been chalked up to accidental deaths
and, er, the last one was...
- ...over 30 years ago. - Definitely accidental?
1975, a lighting rig fell onto the stage,
killing one of the witches.
'87, a trapdoor malfunctioned killing the actor Banquo.
And 1992, the actor playing Macbeth
stabbed the actor playing Duncan with a real knife live on stage.
Hm.
Dead on stage.
Quite.
Look, it might just be bad luck.
It might be nothing.
It is the Scottish play, after all.
I don't believe in curses.
Well, me neither, normally, but it is Macbeth.
Well, I'm gonna approach this like any other case.
The '92 one, actor playing Macbeth was called John Barrel.
He was convicted of manslaughter,
served prison time.
I'm gonna find an address for him.
You do that, dear.
- Thanks for the help, Doc. - My pleasure.
Could I have a quick word?
I'll make some calls.
Something you needed?
I, er...
I was just wondering if that drink is still on offer?
- The one you were too busy for? - Yeah, well, I've reconsidered.
All work and no play and all that.
And I think it's good to recharge the little grey cells from time to time,
and I have a very decent bottle of Chateau Margaux.
I find it works wonders.
Well, you're the doctor. You know.
Well, it generally doesn't help with a lot of my patients,
but... how about Friday?
- Well, Saturday's better. - How about Saturday?
Look, just so we know where we stand.
I'm not interested in playing games. Life's too short.
Well... I know I've been running a little hot and cold lately,
but I'm not interested in games either.
I... I just want to make sure.
And I don't do things lightly, Harry.
That's good.
I like honesty.
- Good night, George. - Good night, man.
- Ghost light. - Come again?
Well, a theatre should never be completely dark.
The light appeases the ghosts.
Lets them come out and perform when the living have gone.
You don't really believe in that sort of thing?
- Do you? - No.
But the ghosts do. See you tomorrow.
Hey. No whistling either.
- It's bad luck. - It is?
Back in the day, sailors were employed backstage
and they'd use coded whistles to communicate with each other.
An accidental whistle
could see a piece of scenery being dropped on someone.
Dangerous place, the theatre.
Hello?
Get a grip. No such thing as ghosts.
You are perfectly safe.
What the...?
Bloody hell!
Come on, wake up. Come on.
Come on, wake up.
That's it. Sit up.
No harm done.
Tell that to my head. What happened?
- Sandbag. - Oh.
Must have come loose.
You know, you really shouldn't be on the stage at this time of night.
I was helping Ruth with the ghost light.
Ruth was telling me about you.
Come on, let's get you a drink.
- What? - A drink for your concussion.
I've got a special bottle, strictly for VIPs.
What, am I a VIP?
You're part of the family now...?
- Fergus. - Yes, exactly. Fergus.
This is an 18-year-old single malt from Balfe's.
Mm. You can taste the Boyne.
- How do you know about whiskey? - Oh, I get around.
So, your... your grandfather opened this place
and passed it down through the generations?
Actually, no. My father died when I was quite young.
Then when Guy left to go back to Hollywood,
Jenny Maloney ran it. You know who that is?
Irish theatre royalty.
Our illustrious producer, Ruth, is her daughter.
Nepotism at its best.
Ruth wouldn't be here
if it wasn't for who her mother was.
She's a tricky one, for sure.
Like... I know for a fact
she's not gay or seeing anyone.
But every time I ask her out for a drink, she turns me down.
I mean, what's that about?
Must be hard running a theatre. Expensive.
Hope you're insured.
Oh, no, not for me. I'm fine.
Oh.
Insurance is the bane of my life.
Every single thing in this theatre is insured.
Costs a bloody fortune.
Yeah, but still, though,
peace of mind in case something goes wrong.
Like, say, if you were to lose an actor or something.
Wouldn't make much difference, not with these actors!
Oh, no offence.
None taken.
- You're not going back. - Harry!
- Don't argue with me. - I'm going to argue with you.
- There's a killer on the loose. - Which is why I'm going back.
OK, someone, very possibly our client,
is going to die if we don't catch this guy.
Hold up a second, what are we saying here?
These deaths go back 50-plus years.
What if they were just accidents?
Three productions of Macbeth.
- Three deaths on opening night. - Mm, coincidence?
Don't believe in coincidence.
So, we're looking for an octogenarian serial killer? Ha!
Look, you're an adult now.
I can't stop you from being reckless and moronic.
Thanks. And what are you two doing?
I got a lead on the actor from the '92 production.
Listen, brother, I'm here for you, you know.
It's a lot of pressure.
If that were me, I would be running for the hills.
Especially after the others.
Quick question.
You haven't happened to tell anyone
about who I really am, have you?
No. No, not from me. Why?
Someone tried to kill me last night.
- What? - It's fine, it's fine. I'm fine.
But, you know, it begs the question,
why would someone want to kill me on my first day,
unless they knew I was a private investigator?
You all right?
- Who's that fella? - That's Colm.
He's playing First Murderer opposite you,
and he's my understudy.
He was kindly telling me that there's a history of people
dying on their first night of the opening night
of a new production of this play.
Oh, my God! He wasn't lying?
Look, we don't know that yet, all right, just...
How does he know about it?
I don't know. Maybe he's been down in the archive.
- Archive? - It's in the basement.
Theatre's entire history is down in there.
Gather! Gather!
Gentle players.
John Barrel?
Who is asking?
Beverly send you, did she?
Well, tell her she's taken everything already.
There's nothing left.
I am but a husk blowing in the wind.
Well, we... We don't know a Beverly.
We wanted to talk to you
about your production of Macbeth at the Dalton theatre.
I have nothing to say on the subject.
In my experience, an innocent man
would want to tell his side of the story.
No one would listen to me then.
Why would anyone listen to me now?
Well, we think that what happened wasn't your fault.
We think that you were set up to be the fall guy.
You're saying someone switched the daggers on purpose?
That wasn't the first death linked to a run of Macbeth
- at the Dalton. - No, it was the third.
I knew it!
I always checked props myself before going on,
and that night was no exception, I...
I turned my back for 30 seconds, a minute.
Someone must have switched them.
I told them that back then, but...
no one believed me.
They said I was negligent.
That night ruined my life.
I lost everything.
Did anyone have a grudge against you?
I say this with the utmost humility,
but I was the most gifted actor of my generation.
Everyone had a grudge against me.
Who was there that night?
Well, it was opening night, so everyone was there.
Apart from the old bastard, of course.
- Old bastard? - Guy Dalton. A film star.
Hated me most of all because I was a real actor.
Probably hates me still.
What, you're telling me he's still alive?
- He must be in his 80s. - Trust me!
The old bastard will never die.
He lives in some upscale retirement community in Wicklow.
He's back in Ireland? We heard he'd returned to America.
For a time. Did some god awful TV show.
Sold another little bit of his soul.
At least I never did that. I still have my dignity.
But he was in LA the night of the play?
I don't know, he was supposed to be here.
I didn't see him before and, of course,
I never saw him after.
I never saw anyone after.
What are you doing elbowing me like that for?
Well, if you treat everyone like a suspect, you're not going to get anything from them.
Jesus, Mother, I'm not going to be told how to question someone by you.
I'm doing this a long time, you know.
Well, then, you ought to be better at it.
- So, what did you think of him? - Angry and bitter.
I'm not saying he doesn't have a right to be,
but he does seem to have a grudge
- against the Dalton theatre. - And Guy Dalton in particular.
- Can't believe he's still alive. - We need to talk to him.
He was in the first two productions,
but he was in Dublin for the third.
He would have had an opportunity.
But what's his motive? And surely we're not suggesting
an 80-something-year-old man is still an active killer?
Who wear our health but sickly in his life,
which in his death were perfect.
"I-I am... I am one, my liege,
whom the vile blows and buffets of the world hath so incensed
that I am reckless what I do to spite the world."
And I another...
...so weary with disasters and tugged with fortune
that I would set my life on any chance
to mend it or be rid of it.
Both of you know Banquo was your enemy.
- True. - True.
- My lord-- - Let's take a break.
Excellent work. I was right about you.
You're feeling it, aren't you?
Dionysus, the god of theatre, is in your blood.
I don't know about that, but, er,
my blood was on the stage last night.
Come again?
Sandbag dropped almost right on me.
Someone did it on purpose, right?
The rope holding it was cut with a knife.
- And so it begins. - What does that mean?
Every time they've staged a successful production
of "the Scottish play",
the same three things always happen.
First, someone almost dies.
Second, someone important to the production will disappear.
And, third, someone will die.
But, fortunately, it's never the director.
I'm too important.
Gotta go.
I am... I am one, my liege.
Archive...?
Archive.
- Rob's office. - Hi, Isabella. It's Hugo.
- Hi, Hugo. - I got a message from Rob.
- Do you have him? - Let me check.
- Hugo Sheehan? - Gotta be quick.
I just nipped out from rehearsals. What did they say?
They're interested, want to meet you.
They want you for a double block to begin with, possibly more,
but you need to convince them you can shoot fast.
Listen, if Dublin Streets pay what we asked for,
I'll shoot ten pages a day. Hell, 20! I don't care.
I just want to pay my bloody mortgage--
Hugo?
This is a disaster! Where the bloody hell is he?
We've looked everywhere.
His car's still outside. He's probably just grabbing some air.
For six hours?
Admittedly, misplacing one's director
the day before opening night isn't ideal, but--
It's Fergus.
- The director's missing. - Hm, the second marker?
Not a bad place to spend your twilight years, this.
Maybe I'll ask about getting you in here.
That's you out of my will.
...this behind, go somewhere no one knows us.
Whaddya say?
I say...
You're no damn good...
- Look at that! - You never have been, sugar.
- You were born bad... - I was magnificent, wasn't I?
- That's why you killed him. - Oh, yes.
- I knew how to act! - Blamed it on the family curse.
But it wasn't a curse.
It was poison.
Bob Mitchum was supposed to have played that part,
but he got arrested on a dope bust!
That was my big break!
Oh! And who might you be?
Mr Dalton, may we speak with you?
Oh, I-I played a private detective in that movie.
I sure haven't come across any PIs as pretty as you.
Run along now, darling. Yes, yes, off you go.
It'll be fine. See you after dinner. Yes.
- Hm! - Come on.
Now, you come and sit beside me.
I don't hear so good any more.
I'm sure you hear very well, Mr Dalton.
Oh, no, no, you... you sit over...
over there, over there.
Now, what would you like to talk about?
- Your theatre. - Mm-hm?
Well, specifically, the deaths that occur
every time there's a production of Macbeth.
Oh, yes, well, I'm afraid it's just bad luck.
Three deaths is just bad luck?
I opened that theatre in '73.
Have you any idea
how many different productions have been staged there
in the last 50-odd years?
I bet if you asked any other theatre
they'd have far more than three accidental deaths.
Accidental?
Well, two accidents and one incompetence.
John Barrel, he said you were supposed to be in Dublin then.
Yes, I-I was, b-but my plans changed.
Got an alibi for where you were?
Well...
a little thing called the 49th Golden Globes.
Mm-hm.
It was televised.
I lost to Scott Bakula, if you can believe that.
And what were you nominated for?
Oh, er, Dr Delaney, DVM.
- You played a vet. - Yes.
- Like an army veteran? - No! No!
Not an army vet, an animal vet.
I saved animals and I solved crimes.
It was a great success, ran for four seasons.
I had a parrot as a sidekick. Oh, I hated that bird.
Here's the thing, Guy.
You see, it's not just three deaths
linked to productions of Macbeth.
In each case, two other things happened.
Someone had a near miss
and then someone integral to the production went missing.
There's another production coming up
and those two things have already happened.
I'm not a big believer in coincidence at the best of times
but three productions of Macbeth
and the same thing happens every time and is happening again.
- Now, I... - Not every time.
Well, what do you mean?
This isn't the fourth production of Macbeth at the Dalton.
It's the fifth.
I did a run there in '83.
No one died, no one vanished.
That kind of spoils your theory, doesn't it?
Oh.
This way.
I've only got an hour before I'll be needed for rehearsal.
- How are you enjoying it? - It's OK.
I mean, it's not as bad as I thought it would be.
OK, it's actually pretty good fun.
Er... Prepare yourselves.
Well, the good news is
there is sort of a system and I use that word--
- Incorrectly? - Loosely.
It starts down there at the back with 1973,
when the theatre opened, and then moves towards us.
These nearer boxes are from last year.
OK, so we need to find all four productions.
- '75, '83, '87 and '92. - Well, let's start looking.
I've got the one from '83. Guy was the lead.
This is interesting.
Yeah, I saw something similar for the '75 production.
But we have no suspect.
Guy Dalton was very definitely 6,000 miles away
for the '92 play.
Yeah. Yeah, good.
...so incensed that I am reckless what I do to spite the world.
And I another so weary with disasters,
tugged with fortune.
Raise the lights!
OK, well, the show goes on, and all that.
Still no sign of Hugo, but we're almost there.
So, I'm going to fill in.
OK, let's pick up where we left off. Act three, scene three.
- What's up? - Banquo's death. Go.
You're frowning.
I've seen something.
I just can't work out what it is that I've seen.
So incensed that I am reckless what I do to spite the...
You're no damn good. You never have been, sugar.
You were born bad. Old man Richards knew it.
That's why you killed him, blamed it on the family curse.
But it wasn't the curse.
It was poison.
Fergus?
Hey, Harry. What's up?
I think I know the who. I just don't know the how.
I need you to talk me through the play.
All of it? It's a pretty long play.
Just Marcus's scenes will do.
I need to know how they're staged.
OK, first time we see Macbeth is act one, scene three.
Make way for the mound, please, coming downstage. Pull.
Agh!
Thou wast born of woman.
But swords I smile at,
weapons laugh to scorn,
brandished by a man that's of a woman born.
Ah, they let me in here. I have come along...
What the bloody hell is going on? This is a closed rehearsal.
I still own this theatre. I think it's allowed.
I apologise, Mr Dalton.
I didn't realise you'd be here quite so early.
I got a message to say you wanted me early!
- I didn't send a message. - No, it was me.
I thought it was best if we all got together. Shall we?
There's only two hours to curtain.
- We don't have time for this. - Sorry, Ruth.
I'm afraid you're going to have to make time.
I'm gonna come clean to everyone. I'm not an actor.
- Well, I know that. - You know what?
I thought I was doing OK, so could you just...?
- Fergus, please, stay on task. - Yup.
Absolutely right.
We are private investigators.
Marcus hired us to find out if there was any truth
in the prediction that he was going to die on stage tonight.
- A prediction? - Well, we're not big believers
in such things either, but that doesn't mean it's not real.
Tonight will mark the fifth production of Macbeth.
1975, the first production of Macbeth with Mr Dalton here
in the lead.
A lighting rig dropped onto the stage
and killed the actor playing the First Witch.
Despite that, or maybe because of it,
the play was a hit.
Then, in 1983, it was the second production,
Guy was also in the lead. No one died.
And despite that, or maybe because of it,
- the play flopped. - This is nonsense.
Someone dying or not dying
doesn't guarantee a successful run.
Well, I couldn't agree more, but you have to bear in mind
the superstitious nature of you theatre-folk.
1987, a trapdoor malfunctioned on opening night
and the actor playing Banquo... fell to his death.
Now, despite that, or maybe because of it,
the play was a smash.
And then, in 1992, fourth production,
John Barrel played Macbeth.
The prop knife was switched for a real knife
and the actor playing Duncan died live on stage.
And the play was a resounding success.
You're just talking about a series of unfortunate events.
No, I'm talking about murder.
Two murders, to be precise, three abductions
and another murder planned for tonight.
See, the death of the First Witch in 1975
was just misfortune.
See, the bracket holding the lighting rig came loose
and it fell.
Then came the flop in '83.
The Dalton theatre's first flop ever, and that got you thinking.
What if the theatre gods demanded a sacrifice
in exchange for success?
This is bullshit.
Ah, but it does brings us back to what a superstitious lot
you theatre types are.
See, back in '75, an extra fell off the stage, a nasty fall.
Could have been more serious. Fortunately, they were OK.
Then the stage manager went missing.
Well, he was an alcoholic that went on a bender
but still, no one knew where he was for a couple of days.
How do you know all this?
Your archives are very detailed, but you didn't leave anything to chance.
What if the theatre gods demanded all of these events
for success?
So, you decided to recreate all three things
in the '87 production.
A costume designer took a tumble down a flight of stairs.
The actor playing young Siward vanished for two days.
Turned up with no memory of where he'd been.
And then, on opening night, you rigged the trapdoor to open,
knowing that your co-star was going to step on that.
Which he did, and he fell to his death.
You can't prove any of that, and your whole theory falls apart
as soon as you get to the next run.
- In 1992, I was in LA. - We agree.
You had nothing to do with the murder in 1992 or the one today.
But before returning to LA, you passed the mantle on to family.
I was five in 1992!
Oh, it wasn't you, Sam.
You passed the mantle on to the same person
you passed on the running of the theatre.
Jenny Maloney, who was your lover.
She, in turn, passed it on to her daughter.
Your daughter.
Ruth.
Oh, is that why you would never go out with me?
Because... Because you knew we're related!
There are so many reasons I wouldn't go out with you.
- OK. - But you're wrong.
My father was an accountant called Gerry Baird.
Well, maybe the world believed that,
maybe even he believed that, but it's not true.
The two of you have something in common.
You have a condition called Stahl's Ear.
It's nothing serious,
just an extra bit of cartilage on the pinna of your ears.
Gives you a very slight elfin look, but it is hereditary.
See, Sam inherited it from his grandfather,
and Ruth from her father.
My ears are perfectly round.
Well, you had otoplasty to correct it
early on in your film career, but in your first few films,
one of which I saw last night,
your Stahl's Ear is there for everyone to see.
- It doesn't prove anything. - Yeah, but a DNA test would.
Yes, well...
Ruth is my daughter.
But that doesn't prove that she and I are murderers.
You're right.
I can't prove that you dropped a bleedin' great sandbag
on my head!
- But you know what I can prove? - Enlighten me.
That the theatre owns a storage facility in Smithfield,
receipts for which are in the archive.
And my son, an ex-Guard,
with his old colleagues was there and guess what he found!
Jordan! We got him.
Here.
Ooh, not just Hugo.
No, he found a whole bunch of cables
which, we assume, are covered in fingerprints.
Your fingerprints, Ruth.
This isn't fully live yet, but tonight it will be,
and when Marcus plants his sword in the ground,
50,000 volts will shoot through him.
And it will just be put down as another misfortune,
but Marcus will be no less dead.
You don't understand.
You don't have the theatre in your blood,
not like me and Ruthie.
She demands respect.
Sacrifice.
I have given everything to this craft.
To this stage.
To those people sitting out there in the dark.
So, some actors died.
So what?
The show must go on!
It's the only thing that matters.
You all right, Fergus?
You seem a tad on edge, if you don't mind me saying.
Oh, er... Lola's back,
and Charlie's picking her up from the airport, so...
So, you're worried she's going to find out
about all these other women you've been chasing around
and give you the old Spanish archer, eh?
- What? - The El Bow.
No! I only went on like two dates.
There was definitely no chasing and they weren't even...
Look, I'm going to ask Lola to get back together with me
and I'm nervous that she's gonna say no.
I've been there.
Petra turned me down the first time I asked her out as well.
Granted, she was trying to steal my car at the time.
But she also turned me down the second and third times.
And, in fact, the 50th and 60th.
Fifty?
But you think that put me off? Heck, it did not.
It spurred me on and, eventually,
it was just easier for her to say yes than no to me.
I'm proud to say I wore that woman down.
So, remember, Fergus, if you're worried she's gonna say no,
relentless, dogged persistence always wins out in the end.
Mark my words.
Some would call that harassment.
- Hi, Ferg. - I need to talk to you.
Good, I need to talk to you, too.
- OK, just let me go first. - No, me first.
I think we should get back together.
I had, like, this whole thing. I was gonna fight for you.
Who were you gonna fight?
Ryan, obviously.
You remember all those photos I showed you of him?
Yeah.
Do you remember the other fella who was in all of them?
That's Paul, Ryan's boyfriend.
- Yeah. - Oh.
What happened to your head--
Hello.