The Prince (2021) s01e12 Episode Script

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- 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.
- 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?
- 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.
- Eliminate the problem.
Oh, leave the baguette,
would you?
I have eggs coming.
- 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.
- 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.
Oh, and the glass is a bit
streaked, dear.
Might want to clean that.
- Fuck, fuck.
I can't believe you fucking
killed them all.
- Yeah, with a 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.
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 ♪
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.
- Another day,
another afternoon tea.
I can barely contain
my excitement.
- It's the breakfasts
that kill me.
- Oy, you, move.
Move.
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.
-
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.
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.
- 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!
- They're coming!
- 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.
- 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--
- 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? ♪
♪
- Oh, no.
- What is it, lovey?
- I have to go.
It's George.
He's in trouble.