Clop clop clop clop...
(♪ horse naying ♪)
Click.
Excellent hunting m'lord.
Click.
Yes indeed thank you Sir Frederick.
Click...
Click, yes.
Indeed you truly are a wonderful shot with a bow sire.
Yes, yes, very good.
Where is my man servant.
Fetch me Bittles.
Right away my Lord.
Very good.
My Lord?
Ah Bittles.
There you are...
Bittles I'm thirsty
Fetch me a drink will you?
Eh... yes my Lord.
Very good Bittles.
Right away My Lord.
Thank you Bittles.
Bittles...?
Bittles you walked straight through my horse.
I'm sorry.
It was my fault really.
Oh thank you.
Oh what strength.
I should have gone back
Yes.
He really is a wonderful little creature.
Oh look at him.
Simply loves being treated like sh*t
Look at him go...
Once he's got the nose eh?
Oh yes.
Haha!
Unlucky haha.
Haha
I found one my Lord.
Oh did you?
Yes my Lord.
Oh very good what is it that we have here?
Eh... it's Eh...
I think it's a
It's a...
It's a... hold a second...
Oh it's a lager sire.
Oh it's a lager is it?
Are you sure?
No.
I think it might be lager sire.
You don't seem convinced tho
Perhaps a second opinion?
Ye ye is it a lager?
Ye?
Bittles I think he pretended to drink that.
Oh yes.
It is a lager.
He can't be trusted.
That man can't be trusted clearly a liar.
Bittles em...
Bittles perhaps the royal taster?
Yes.
Very good Bittles thank you very much.
(audience chant "Steve" an audience member they know from earlier, clearly he's popular)
Ah, Sir Steven of Harmanstown.
It's a lager.
It is a lager.
I'm afraid I don't like lager Bittles please return it.
Thank you very much.
Thank you Bittles.
Thank you my Lord.
No no thank you Bittles.
Yes my Lord thank you.
No no Bittles I'm thanking you, thank you.
Yes.
Yes thank you.
Do not thank me back.
It's royal thank you do not thank the King back.
Thank you.
Ye, ye, ye... thank you.
Do not thank me back
Thank you!
Ye thank you!
Do not...
I am the King you do not thank me back thank you.
Eaaaargh...
Aaahhhh...
Thank you.
Do not thank me.
Do not thank me in any way.
Thank you my Lord.
Do not!
Ooooh oooh
Thrash me my Lord
No.
Thrash yourself.
Oh thank you my Lord.
Ahhh...
My Lord I?
Yes.
Yes sir Frederick?
Perhaps we should make haste to the castle
for the birth of your child?
Ah yes the royal birth?
No.
To the whore house.
Ooooh....
Ooooh yeah.
Look at this tasty devil down here.
Completely avoiding my gaze.
Well we got a busy day ahead of us girls.
A thousand punters coming in here
all looking for one thing.
A good rogering.
That's right.
So chop chop let's get to it girls
We got some regulars in tonight don't we?
Yeah.
Oh hello Steven how's it going babe?
Oh yeah.
Chop chop let's get to it girls.
Actually girls I was wondering if I could have some
annual leave?
You want the day off Mary?
Yeah please if you don't mind?
Oh for God's sake you know the rules.
You can't have a day off unless you have a replacement.
Well I have a replacement.
Do you really now who?
Her.
Oh... she's gorgeous isn't she?
She'd get the punters in the door alright.
She's a friend of mine she's been asking for ages.
She said it would help with her Gaisce Medal.
(A self-development award presented by the President of Ireland for those of you who are confused af)
Well she's lovely.
What's her name?
Eva.
Eva?
Eva or Caoimhe?
Oh, Aoife!
It's not a great whore name really is it?
Not great.
No I'm afraid she's not going to do Mary
Sorry back onto you luv.
Thanks a lot friend.
Clop clop clop clop...
Click.
My Lord?
Yes Sir Frederick?
Shouldn't we get a horse for Bittles.
No no. Bittles he prefers to run actually.
Yes but it has been 40 miles.
Oh for God's sake why don't you ask him yourself?
Then yes?
Bittles?
Yes?
Perhaps you'd like to take a break?
F*%k off!
Oooh I'm exhausted.
Oh yeah?
Yeah.
From all the sex.
Oh Mary you are going to hop in for her.
I think yeah?
Girls I can't.
What do you mean you can't?
I'm pregnant.
Pregnant?
I know.
Did you not use precautions like I told you?
I did.
Oh did you really now?
Yes.
Did you sit on a cold stone wall?
Yes.
Did you rub a cabbage on your belly?
Yes.
Did you fling an egg at a baby?
Yes.
Did you punch a blacksmith?
Yes.
At midnight?
Yes.
Did you bury the beetroot?
Yes.
Did you put the goats horn in the attic?
Yes.
Take it out again?
Yes.
Put it back in again?
Yes.
Lock the door behind you?
Yes.
Did you make him wear a condom?
No.
Doesn't matter.
Who's the bloody father?
It's the King.
Another one?
I know girls.
Well he didn't find the other child.
Yes that's right because if he did...
Oh girls I don't want to be a whore anymore I've had enough.
Nobody wants to be a whore Mary.
Clop clop clop clop...
(horse naying)
Woooow
Segatarious.
Wow easy boy.
Wow easy now.
There we go.
Oh look at this...
Segetarious has been working out.
Look at that.
Oh yes there we go.
That's more like it.
You know Bittles you really shouldn't have killed Sir Frederick
he was only trying to offer you a sandwich.
But my Lord...
Bittles is a celiac.
Oh for God's sake it doesn't matter enough of this.
To the whore house.
We can't my lord.
What do you mean we can't?
Mother says I'm not to bother her at work.
Oh no no excuse me you don't understand.
Mary the Irish girl?
She is my regular whore yes?
Well I'm her replacement.
What?
Oh no no you are simply foul you won't do at all,
I'm sorry look I don't care if it's her day off or not
You tell that potato eating, bog trotting...
Irish wench to get up here immediately.
That is no way to speak about the future mother of your child.
(audience: Ooooh...)
Oh bollox.
Oh Bittles darling.
Mummy.
(coughing)
(more disgusting coughing)
Your pregnant.
That's right Bittles.
Mary!
Oh God.
You whore!
Yes?
I meant it in an offensive way.
Oh.
You're pregnant.
Yes my Lord.
Bittles?
Bittles is going to have a baby brother my Lord.
A baby bro... what the hell are you talking about...
Oh dear God.
You're his mother.
That's right.
And he's your son.
What?
I kept it secret from you for all these years.
You whore.
Yes?
That's getting so annoying.
Bittles.
Bittles?
You're
my son.
Daddy.
Oh Bittles my boy.
I always wanted a boy.
(more horrible coughing)
Bittles? Bittles what's happening?
Talk to Daddy what's going on?
The lager my Lord!
You poisoned him you bastards.
No my Lord...
Bittles is a celiac
What?
You mean you gave him a wheat based product?
But...
Oh God no!
Oh Bittles I didn't realise.
Nobody really knows what celiac is.
I'm sorry Bittles.
Please forgive me.
It's OK my Lord.
Bittles likes to die.
Oh no.
Is there anything I can do to ease his pain?
No.
Let him die in agony.
It's what he always wanted.
If that's what you wish Bittles I...
I shall make it so my boy.
Ahhhh
Thank you my Lord.
No
My dear...
Sweet Bittles...
Thank you.
Yes thank you my Lord.
It's alright Bittles.
Bittles
will die now.
Goodbye...
My Bittles.
Goodbye my Lord.
Oh just die Bittles for God's sake!
Doomdah!