Another Period (2015) s01e04 Episode Script

1 Mother, I came in second again.
Out of two.
Oh, so very proud of you, dear.
You're splashing about like a mermaid.
That will do, Sloppy Sally.
You girls should stop playing tennis and take up air weaponry.
Exercise dries the womb and gives you bicycle face.
What's bicycle face? A hideous byproduct of exertion that causes a woman's face to contort and her eyes to bulge.
Ha! See? Bicycle face.
Mother, are you aware that the Newport's Most Beautiful pageant is being hosted in our home, and I had to read about it in the Looky Loo to find out? Hore, we always host the pageant.
I'm not talking about the vegetable competition.
I'm not anti-entertainment.
But they have opened the pageant up to humans.
A human beauty pageant? That's absurd.
Only cabbages should be judged on their beauty.
Let me see that.
It says it right here.
Newport's Most Beautiful pageant is now going to be a competition between cabbages, women, and babies.
It's dehumanizing! In my day, a woman was judged only on her fertility, silence, and threshold for pain.
The winner is to appear on a biscuit tin.
- I'll enter.
- Me too.
I can't wait till we win.
Beatrice, only one of us can win, and we both know your head shape cannot support a tiara.
I am not going to stand by and allow this vulgarity to occur.
Ha-ha! Majestic no more! This is the most important week of your lives.
Our service must be peerless.
We can have no more abominations, like today's table cloth-tastrophy.
Look at this.
A champagne stain as big as a brood mare's birthing cannon.
Spilt by an unskilled ham-fist.
Oh, I see it.
No, you don't.
There's nothing there.
What, have you got shit in your eyes? Enough.
I blame myself.
Obviously I haven't trained you properly.
Even a bull can give milk, if you pump it hard enough.
Servants dismissed.
Chair.
Stay.
The pageant categories are talent, bathing costumes, and Q&A.
Q-nay? Question and answer.
Let's focus on talent.
What are you good at? Everybody tells me I'm good at everything.
Well, why don't we try singing? Ooh, okay.
Ha ha ha ha ha Ha ha ha ha ha Do you know any more songs? Oh, songs.
I thought we were just making noises.
- Oh.
- How about this one? O mio babbino caro Like that? I can't decide.
I liked all of your songs the same.
Scalpel.
Please don't let him die.
Never had a white man die on my watch.
Ah.
Wow.
This competition was Albert's baby.
His vegetables won Newport's Most Beautiful pageant for the last five years.
This is last year's winner, the Pink Surprise, a sinful combination of Scottish high potato crossed with a hothouse eggplant.
And this blue ribbon winner is a daikon root I call "Hop On It.
" Look at that thing.
So proud of it.
I've decided to honor Albert's legacy by coaching the biggest vegetable I know-- other than you, honey.
I'm speaking, of course, about Lillian.
Which side do you think is better for the biscuit tin? The right or the left? Is there a third choice? Now, we need to choreograph a dance if you want to win.
Maybe this biscuit tin will be just the beginning.
Imagine my face on a milk jar, or an oat sack.
I can only imagine your face on a nut sack.
Isn't there an award-winning cucumber you could go sit on? Listen, honey, there's not time to break your nose and reset it.
I'm telling you, if you want to win, I have to coach you.
I am a once-in-a-generation beauty.
Who on earth could beat me? Literally all of them, especially that cabbage.
Help me.
Now we all know this pageant simply cannot proceed.
Here, here.
I propose one of us enter and bring it down from the inside.
Yes, but whom? Whomever is the most attractive, I suppose.
Well, Hortense, you do have a stately brow and businesslike shoulder blades.
Thank you.
And Cornetta, your unfortunate gum line is barely noticeable due to the stoutness of your carriage.
Thank you.
And Abortion Deb, your hair is the color of baked bread.
Oh, thank you.
And Eunice, your body's as pale as tooth powder.
Thank you.
But ultimately, I do believe it is Hortense who is the most comely.
I agree.
Most people only have one beauty mark, but you have so, so many.
You are definitely the comeliest.
You shall enter.
Being incredibly rich means we can afford any host we want.
But no one good was available, so we got stuck with Dan Ringling.
The Newport's Most Beautiful pageant Newport's Most Beautiful Newport's most gay Newport's Most Beautiful It's happening today Babies, cabbages, women, whoa Who will be the victor of the show? Babies, cabbages, and beautiful women.
It's almost as if we're in some sort of weird pervert's sexual fantasy.
Good luck, Lillian.
Save your mind games, Beatrice.
Are you sure we shouldn't have her "disqualified"? Oh, she's a non-threat, unless they're judging on "looking confused," "incest," or "freestyle dummy talk.
" Now let's ogle our next human contestants.
Lillian Abigail Hitler Schmemmerhorn-Fish! Present and ready to win.
Miss Beatrice Tiffani Ambitheissen Downsy.
Also present.
And Miss Hortense Jefferson Library Bellacourt.
Even though there's 100% certainty she will not win, she is technically a female adult and, therefore, is allowed to enter.
Are you kidding me? Are you blind? Let's get started with the compulsories.
This way.
Okay, turn.
What are you doing here? Fighting for women's liberation.
Before I'm crowned the winner, they must make sure all the contestants meet the barest standards of human beauty.
This is a lot better than having gone to college.
Now, remember, we're looking for 32 teeth.
No yellows, no wooden.
See that? Let me see that? Excuse me.
For those who are worthy of knowing me, I am Scoops LePue.
I cover all things whisper-worthy in the Newport Looky Loo.
Beatrice, if you please.
Lillian.
I'm fine! Oh, come on now.
Ah! The hips may try, but the silhouette don't lie.
Masculine-jawed woman, you are officially disqualified from the competition.
Disgusting.
Please, I can get through.
Get out! Give me another second.
A stick of butter? Okay.
Destroyed my silhouette.
Let's go, let's go.
billionaire, billionaire, bitch, kiss the ring Your first lesson is, you must learn to blend into the walls when a family member passes.
You must be as the chameleon, servant of the desert.
Like this.
Do you see? Service is a calling from the Loudon Agency.
They take 10%, which I will garnish from your wages.
The lady of the house approaches-- blend! Blend more.
I'm blending.
And release.
You are an abomination.
Wonderful.
Beautiful.
Well, we've seen the cabbages.
We've smelled the babies.
Now let's quiz the humans.
Please welcome Beatrice.
Kiss for luck? Oh.
Okay.
Ooh, a hard one.
What is your favorite time of day? Um I think I should ask a man.
I can't think of a better answer from a prettier gal.
It's like watching a dog talk.
A beautiful dog that I'd like to penetrate.
And now Lillian.
Just a kiss for luck? I don't need luck.
Very well.
Pick a good question for you.
Nope, not that one.
Ah, here we are.
Given the passage of the 1902 Organic Act granting limited self-government to the people of the Philippines, what policies can engender longtime maritime futures in the region? Please include possible naval advances of the Japanese in your answer.
What-- what kind of question is that? I want one like Beatrice got.
A little lippy, not encouraging.
Judges? Ugh! What the hell was that? You got cocky.
No one likes a confident woman.
We'll make up for it in the swimsuit competition.
You've got that one cold.
I mean, who wants to see a tall, leggy blonde in a swimsuit? Not me.
You were the best out there.
- Oh, I loved it so much.
And I got 10! - You did! Here.
Oh, no.
Oh, don't worry, it's all vodka.
Oh.
Again.
No, again.
Again.
O Cabbages Leafy cabbages Again! You pour champagne like a chimpanzee.
Again! Muriel the Baby.
You'll pour until I tell you to stop.
- Oh, damn you! - No, God! Again, again, again! Swimsuits 20th century swimsuits - Again! - I can't do it! You can and you will! Wonderful.
Ow! Okay.
Yes, Chair, that's how you pour champagne.
Again.
Wonderful, Chair, you've done it! - All right, cut it out.
- Cut what out? - You know what you're doing.
- I never know what I'm doing.
I barely know what I'm saying right now.
Stop winning.
I'm supposed to get the crown! Oh, what, I can't be better than you at anything? That's the dynamic that's been working for us so far! Well, I don't accept that paradigm! I'll see you at the breakfast table.
I'll be the one smiling at you from the inside of a biscuit tin.
It's the outside of a biscuit tin, you human potato! Egh! Don't worry, my love.
We still have a lucky clover up our sleeve.
Such delicious gruel today, isn't it, Towel? All right, you can have a little bite.
Listen, everybody.
The pageant has filled the porcelain with poopy.
Chair, the next chapter in your training is to transport the feces to the ocean throughout the festivities.
I'll help her.
No, I'm fine.
I can transport the feces on my own.
It would be good to have two people on such an important task.
Yes, Hamish, go with her.
Great.
God, how much feces can these people produce? Whatever amount keeps you gainfully employed.
How much further is the sea? I ain't no mapmaker.
I don't stops walking until the sea water is in my nose.
I think I'm gonna be sick.
Oh, not me.
Reminds me of that time we split guts at that oceanside shanty.
That was some boning for the ages, huh? Not in the feces! The thought of us makes you sick? Everything about you makes me sick.
- You want to push me, huh? - No.
You want to push me? I can make things much worse for you here.
Hello.
We need something from you.
Whoo! Thank you, Cora.
I have never seen a suitcase packed so fast.
Now, that is talent.
Up next is the strangely angry Lillian.
With Albert still unconscious, Lillian's abysmal performance threatens to undo Albert's winning streak.
Time to dust off an old crowd-pleaser.
Aye, there.
Who has me potato? Mick Face.
I drink all night I drink all day I punch me wife the Irish way Huh! Go to the bar, spend all our quid My wife stays home and has another kid Got ginger hair, I'm a Catholic I'm a drunk potato-loving dirty Mick O Danny Boy, the alcohol is calling It's saying I'm a pissed old Paddy snout And we won't win our pointless war with England And no one wants us here so we should just get out I don't know how she manages to do it, but Lillian is always on the cutting edge of comedy.
When God made me, he was playing a trick 'cause I'm a drunk, potato-loving wife-beating, bar-fighting, ginger-haired disgusting dirty Mick Thank you.
Thank you.
Judges.
Two tens and-- oh, a zero, from the esteemed gentleman from Donegal.
Seemed to be a crowd-pleaser, but we do need to be sensitive to all the white races.
A zero? Are you joshing me? Oh, I'm sorry if we offended you, but we are just saying what everyone is thinking.
Get him out of here! No.
Lillian! By any means necessary! Do as we discussed! Coach says show no mercy! Now the performance from the beautiful Beatrice.
O mio babbino Caro Oh.
Majestic no more.
It saddens me to say that crowd-favorite Beatrice is disqualified.
What happened? Did I win? No.
You were shot with a blow dart.
What? Oh Did I at least sing good? You were magnificent.
And even though you were disqualified, you're still the apple of my penis.
Oh! But the show must go on.
It's now down to Lillian the Bitch, Muriel the Baby, and Old Glory the Cabbage.
If I were you, I would walk your bowlegged little ass out of here and go back to your trash life.
Oh, that's right, you can't walk.
Can't talk yet either, huh? What was that? That biscuit tin is mine.
I'm gonna make you wish you ended up a puddle on your mother's face! It's the moment we've all been waiting for.
Who-- or what-- will be the winner of the 1902 Newport's Most Beautiful pageant? You can feel the tension in the air.
And the winner is Due to a statistical anomaly, Lillian Abigail Hitler Schmemmerhorn-Fish.
What the hell? Well, that was a bit of a cock-up.
The only good news was, I convinced that gossip reporter Scoops LePue not to cover the debacle.
I may have lost, but I lost-- Sorry, the drugs from the blow dart made me speak hard.
I just wanted to ruin the pageant.
The fact that I got to ruin my sister was just a bonus.
Scoops LePue, hi.
So nice to meet a fellow writer.
Ooh, a woman writer.
What kind of cookbook are you working on? I may be a woman, but I'm a real writer, with family secrets and no shame.
Take my card.
Use it wisely.
Do you need some help? No, I'm fine-- get off me.
Albert! Albert, we won! Oh, it was magnificent.
In the end, Lillian and I both got what we deserved.
I won the trophy, and she was doused in feces.
I wish you could have been there.
- Hot dog, man, you did it.
- We did it.
Congratulations.
How is he doing? He seems to be improving quite a bit.
Uh-huh.
Mmm I won! Only-- strange thing-- they decided not to award the winner of the pageant the cover of the biscuit tin.
That's not me.