Moone Boy (2012) s03e06 Episode Script
A Bucket List for George Gershwin
1 They say family is a symphony where each member plays a different tune.
Why do I have to share a room with this knob-bucket? But with the Moones, it was a symphony played by a one-armed, tone-deaf orchestra, performing an anthem so high-pitched only dogs could hear it.
It's just not fair! Life isn't fair, love.
Thank you.
Listen to the man! From this moment on, we are at war! When were we at peace? What are they fighting about now? I honestly can't remember.
I just use "life isn't fair" as my position on everything now.
Martin used my scrunchie as a catapult and now it's too baggy.
Well, you know I can't throw things manually.
All your dead arms have rendered my shoulders too weak.
I'm going to end you, you flute.
But I've barely started! Have you tried playing peek-a-boo? I've been peek-a-booing for an hour, Dessie.
Delma, is there any chance you could change Rose's nappy today? It's not her nappy, she's teething.
Are you sure? Because the smell is disgusting.
Oh, no, definitely teething Mammy Moone, believe me, I've seen Delma's nipples.
Oh, yes, I have, they're a mess, they are awful And so to escape the primal screams and the duelling banjos Shut up, Martin.
I wasn't even speaking.
Trisha Moone had sought the musical sanctuary of her grandad's house to study for her leaving cert.
Any danger of a cup of tea today? I brought you tea five minutes ago.
Though she was learning that age had made his rhythm a little rusty.
You forgot the sugar.
While you're up, get me a fresh cup of tea, will you? And break out the bourbon, will you? It's got to be five o'clock somewhere, right, Joe? Yeah! And the Bourbons too! Because growing old is like jazz.
You're still making music but sometimes the melody slips a little.
There's your flipping Bourbons.
Thanks, doll! There you go.
Why don't you buy yourself something nice? Like maybe a smile or something! Why do we have to learn history? It's all in the flipping past! Exactly! If we have to learn something, which I dispute, we should be learning the future.
Right! Not doing stupid exams on the Irish Civil War.
Yeah.
Just because it took place 70 years ago this week and changed the course of our nation? Who cares? Totally! It's a sack of nonsense.
Fighting over some dorky treaty that stimulated a tug-of-war between de Valera and Michael Collins to become the voice of a new Ireland? Bore off! Wait, you've been studying! What? No, I haven't.
We said we wouldn't study! We said we'd fail together and then just blame the whole flipping system.
I wasn't studying.
I just have a photographic memory.
I just stared at the book for ages and ages, read it and re-read it and then somehow remembered it.
That's studying, you big studier.
I'm not running away, I'm escaping, like de Valera from Lincoln Gaol! You don't think I should be studying too, do you, Sean? Oh, there's got to be another way.
We could burn down the school? Ah, some bloody swot would only rebuild it.
No, what we need is a first-hand account of the Irish Civil War to make our mediocre answers pop.
Yeah! Were you alive then? Keep thinking, buddy.
Ma'am? Well, the maths exam is going to be a breeze.
Wait.
Of course, I've got it! That's my boy.
You mean your grandad, right? That makes more sense.
Can I help with any of that, love? You want to help me study? God, no.
It just felt right to ask.
How's it working out studying over at Grandad's? He's, um He's A pain in the arse? Such a pain in the arse.
Go easy on him, Dr Huxtable says he's got early signs of Alzheimer's.
His doctor is called Huxtable? No, but he always wears flashy jumpers.
Oh, and he's black.
To be fair, Dad was a pain in the arse before he got sick.
Ah, Liam.
Hey, I hate to see him like this.
But when I was a teenager and he realised we had nothing in common, he told me I was adopted.
Were you? He delivered me himself! In the back of that stupid car.
Speaking of which, don't let him drive, he drives like he is out of his mind.
Which probably won't be helped by the Alzheimer's.
Just keep the poor fella stimulated and engaged.
And ignore the relentless hateful insults.
I'm sure he's mellowed with age.
He told me last night that I look like a reject from a vampire school.
Bingo! I remember bits and pieces from the civil war but I was only your age.
Oh, and my mind's not what it was.
Tell me about it, I can't even remember what I had for lunch today.
You haven't had lunch yet today, buddy.
Thing is, I lost my schoolbooks in a bet, so I'm kind of running low on options here.
But at least we know that a donkey can't outrun a train, don't we? God, that was a sad accident.
God, you're thick.
So, what sort of details are you looking for? Well, what can you remember about the spring of 1922? Well, the Anglo-Irish Treaty was causing all kinds of chaos.
There was a smell of fresh blood in the air.
Deadly.
Lovely stuff.
Keep it coming.
Everyone on the Sinn Fein side knew Nixon was a loose canon and, of course, there were rumours that de Valera had just got the H-Bomb.
What? That's a little surprising.
Nixon I don't think was Michael Collins led the fight anyway, storming the beaches of Normandy.
But what he didn't know was that Napoleon and the Japs were already dug in.
Oh, yeah, the Japs were big in Ireland at the time.
So, let me get this right, Grandad.
Prepare to die, you feckin' midget! Get off my beach, you lanky gombeen.
Ha-ha! You langer.
Merde! Unleash ze secret weapon! Wait! Are you saying Godzilla was pro-treaty? Are you still writing this down? Ah, come on, Martin.
The truth is, at that age, all I really did was listen to music.
Do you want me to play the piano? Wow! That's impressive.
How are you doing that? Not really a big music man, to be honest, Grandad.
As Churchill said, "Music is just a waste of a good walk.
" Wasn't that golf? Music is just a waste of a good golf? That's it.
Lucky I've got you to keep the facts straight, Grandad.
Hi, there.
You're new.
Hot dog! A fellow imaginary! How do you like that? I like it fine.
Wooh! You're a big fella.
Hey! Look! Who crapped you out, you;re like a big stupid tree.
Yeah, I'm a bit like a tree.
You want a drink, sasquatch? I'm buying! I do always encourage Martin to speak to strangers.
So why not? So, are you with the grumpy vampire broad? Er, no.
The idiot boy talking to Grandad.
Grandad! What a hoot.
He was just Little Joe last time I was around.
Now he's Wrinkly Old Joe.
But I can't complain, Paddy.
It's good to be back in the game! You're Grandad's childhood imaginary friend? Out of the flames like a funky phoenix.
Hey, let me ask you a question, Paddy.
How did the big war turn out? We won.
We did? Probably.
Do you think you're back for good? Why? What have you heard? I've heard nothing.
Good.
Let's keep it that way.
What? I'm yanking your chain, you big dumb Mick.
Eh! Want me to butt you? Want me to what me? A gasper.
A snipe.
A butt.
A cigarette, dumbo.
No, thanks, I'm good.
Turns out they're bad for you.
They said the same thing about opium, never did me no wrong.
Woof! You are a breath of fresh air, sir.
You're not so bad yourself, you stupid piece of shit.
You're so mean.
Hey, what did you say your name was again? Er, Sean.
Murphy.
That's a stupid name! Oh, you're serious.
Oh, good for you.
Hey, I'm George.
George Gershwin.
Kind of nice to meet you, George.
Thanks for your time, lads.
So I was wondering, if any of you are a bit confused about this whole civil-war thing, maybe we could all get together and do a kind of re-enactment.
What? Re-enactments are for knobs.
Yeah, he's right, they are.
Unless you mean like on Crimewatch.
Oh, now that's good telly.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Sure! Why not? Except, during the battle, maybe you can mention who you what side you're on, and what year it is.
General history.
All right, but I want to be de Valera.
Yeah, we're Dev.
Could I be Patrick Pearse's mother? I could be a postman at the GPO.
I want to be an innocent bystander! I'm going to be a Brit, so I can beat the shite out of all of you.
A civil-war re-enactment.
I was born to do this! Any chance you can drive down to the shop? We need some schnapps.
Yeah, and make it schnappy, will you? I told you, I can't drive.
Why did we even hire this hussy? Every Moone should be able to drive.
And why is that? For whatever the reason, we tend to land ourselves in situations that require a swift escape.
Like annoying grandparents? Why are you listening to that Nazi tripe? I've got an exam on that Nazi tripe.
If you want to learn anything, you should learn jazz.
I was in a great jazz band for years, you know.
I was a real swinging cat.
We were called Rhapsody In Boyle.
Rhapsody in Boyle Listen, Grandad, I'm trying to study.
Why don't you go in and watch telly or something? There's probably cartoons on somewhere.
Draculady sure has a sharp tongue.
I'd stick a stake in her heart but she ain't got none.
So Grandad's got an imaginary friend? Sure that's no surprise, he's always yapping away to himself.
The big weirdo.
Oh, yeah.
Yeah, his name's George Gershwin and he's some kind of music composer from the 1930s.
As I always say, "Music is just a waste of a good golf.
" Wise words, buddy.
But here's the thing, even though he's just come back, poor George may not be around for very much longer.
Why not? Well, you know, your grandad's really quite old and he might, um, you know, he might stop imagining him, is what I mean.
Well, let that be a warning to you, Sean.
Always keep me entertained.
Fair point.
Want me to do my trick? Oh, yeah.
Magic it up, beardface! OK.
Now, watch closely because this has always confused you.
You are some kind of a witch, Murphy.
Unbelievable.
So I've been thinking, before poor George bites the dust, we could have him make a kind of bucket list.
You ever hear of one of those? Yeah, I just finished writing one.
What? This is a list of things you want to do before you die? No, this is just a list of things I have inside this bucket.
Right.
Towel.
Trowel.
List of things I want to do before I die.
Driving gloves.
Ahh, the bare necessities Heading off now, Grandad! Good night! Grandad? I need to get to my gig.
What are you talking about? We're opening for ol' Fats Fatman.
And that greasy goon's got no time for nothing but a second dessert.
What gig? I can't be feckin' late! They're all waiting for me.
Are you sure it's tonight? Ah, feck it! Don't blow your wig, Joe.
I'm sure that fat fruitcake is still working on a fat fruitcake.
Why don't you come back inside and I'll fix us a fresh cuppa? Or something stronger.
Yeah, all right, love.
Be careful, Joe, I think she means blood.
A five and a three.
That's eight, eight for Joe.
This is great, isn't it Dad? Maths, property, colours, the whole shebang.
Why are we doing this shit? We're keeping you stimulated, like Dr Huxtable suggested.
Do you think that nickname is racist? I'm not decided on that.
Pearse Street.
Want to buy it, Joe? In Dublin? No way, Jose.
Had a situation with a stripper there once.
Had to make a swift escape.
Where's all your money gone, Dad? Oh, I've tucked that away for a rainy day.
Don't listen to them, Joe.
You'll be the one laughing when Black Wednesday hits 'em! Damn right, George.
Who's George? We're rumbled, Joe.
Sock him in the jewels and let's blow this joint.
I meant jacks.
I need the jacks.
Down the hall, on the right.
We know where the damn restroom is! Other way, Joe.
Has he been acting like this a lot? No, not really.
Did you know he was in a jazz band called Rhapsody In Boyle? He just likes telling stories, love.
Like you and the handball thing? Hey! I was a wonderful handballer.
Grandad isn't well, pet.
But if he gets any worse, you need to let us know.
Why? We'll have to move him into the hospital.
I don't think he'd like that, he loves being home.
And he's really not that bad.
Just talks to himself a bit but no more than Martin.
Well, we're pretty sure that Martin's got Alzheimer's too.
That's what I thought a bucket list was too but apparently, it means something else entirely.
Wait, does that mean I have to rewrite all of these? So what do you think? Are you in? I don't know.
It'd mean cancelling the civil-war re-enactment.
I'd been looking forward to that my whole life, since you told me about it yesterday.
Yeah, I do feel bad about that.
Ah, flip it! We'll do it next week.
It's settled.
Next week, civil war, this week, Gershwin.
Is that OK? A bucket list for George Gershwin.
I was born to do this.
Hey, take me for a drive, will you? You know I can't drive.
Then I'll drive.
Come on.
I've got my first exam in three days.
Can't you just go without me? Debra's on her way over to teach us line-dancing.
Isn't that something you'd like a swift escape from? I'll get you the keys.
A bucket list, huh? Ain't that a swell bell? So, you're up for it? I think it's a dandy plan, fellas.
Hah! You boys are the cat's miaow! What did he say? Not a clue.
Did you put this on? Want the Nazi tripe instead? No.
It's not terrible.
I just don't get why it matters.
Because I want to go to college.
College smollege.
We played clubs all over the country and the brightest women I ever met were a pair of exotic dancing twins called Booby and Tits O'Toole.
You think I should be a stripper? Not sure you have the ankles for it, to be honest.
Girls go to college now.
Ironically, it's mainly to have sex, but still In my day, everybody cheated their way through examinations.
Right.
And how did you do that? Oh, loads of ways.
Write the answers inside chewing-gum wrappers.
Bribe your teacher with a box of snuff.
Invisible ink.
That one doesn't even make sense.
Where the hell are we? How should I know? You're the one driving.
I thought there was a jazz club here.
The Flippity Flophouse.
What the hell is happening to me? Take me home.
Anything else? Well, let's see now.
Before the lights go out for good, I wanna play one last game of baseball.
Oh, baseball? OK.
What do you think, buddy? Would a game of rounders do, Mr G? Actually, he's standing over here.
But don't worry.
No point fretting about the logic at this stage.
This is kind of a long shot but is there any chance I could get behind the wheel of an automobile? An automobile? Hmmm! An automobile.
Er, I have a tractor? Of course you do.
Anything else, Mr Gershwin? How about one last tinkle on the ivories? Not sure that's the expression.
You know what would be aces? To see a nudey lady one last time.
OK.
Well, that might be tricky but we'll put it on the list.
Nudey lady, Martin.
Nudey lady, Padraic.
I already had it down.
How do I change gears? I don't know, I'm all confused.
Is it that? Try the pedal on the left.
I think that worked! More accelerator.
Don't be afraid of it.
Now throw in the clutch and get us up to third.
You seem better now.
Ah, comes and goes.
Stupid bloody illness.
Look at you, driving.
What is that? That's not I'm just going to throw it.
I'm going to throw it.
Badda-badda, swingball! Can't take my heat, bitch! You ready? Oh! Catch it, boys! Holy! Catch it! Catch it, boys! Catch it! Come on, he's getting around.
Knobs! She's a right bitch to started.
So Padraic will get her going, then jump off and you'll take the wheel.
Ha! I don't understand a word you're saying, Curly.
But let's do it! Tractor! Ha-ha! Get out of the way.
Woo-hoo! OK, Grandad.
Heel and heel, heel, now heel.
Go on.
Heel left.
Now three, now four.
Woo-hoo! Tractor! I've never driven this fast.
What the? Come on! Get it, Padraic! We'll lose the deposit.
Grandad? Grandad? Oh, I see.
Think I'm your bloody chauffeur now, do you? Forget your feckin' gig, Grandad.
Come on, it's freezing out here.
Grandad? I'm going to steal your wallet now, I'm not joking.
Grandad, you bollox.
And so it was that Martin Moone ended up at his first funeral for the only grandad he ever knew.
Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, you're all welcome.
And the only 1930s music composer he ever knew.
What can I say about Joe Moone? What can I say about George Gershwin? I didn't know him very well myself.
As Joe told me, he preferred to do his praying in private.
But like all of us, he was many different things to many people.
To some, a father.
To others, a grandfather.
to others, a valued customer of a burlesque club.
To some, he was a friend.
To some, a casually racist uncle.
To others, a crasher of tractors, a poppy puffer, a peeper of toms.
And to others still, he was I never actually met him.
A total stranger.
A man of mystery.
A friend we hadn't yet met.
Joe lived a long and eventful life.
I once visited him in the nursing home and he was full of fascinating memories, whether it was playing piano for Chubby Checker, or gun-running for Ghandi, or, of course, filming the moon landing.
George Gershwin lived a very short life and then disappeared.
And then he came back and lived an even shorter life.
So, like a really great film, George had a sequel, which wasn't quite as good as the original.
And although he wasn't the hero, he was a hero, sort of.
And on this very sad day, I'm reminded of these poetic words.
But above all, Joe was a music man.
So, what better way to say goodbye than through the work of his hero, George Gershwin? Where have all the good men gone? And where are all the gods? Where is the street-wise Hercules to fight the rising odds? I need a hero.
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night.
Do you mind if I join you, love? He would've hated this.
Ah, yeah.
But sure, he hated most things.
This is what he would have wanted.
Yeah.
This but with strippers.
Ah! He was a dirty old bastard.
And he's got to be strong.
And he's got to be fast.
And he's got to be fresh from the fight.
Gershwin? You potato-munchers sure know how to throw a good funeral.
Thank you for coming.
Hi.
Goodbye.
Thank you.
Doctor.
A hell of a jumper.
It's a real doozie, fellas.
I thought I was headed for that big speakeasy in the sky.
But then I just kept on existing.
So I suppose you're a ghost now? A ghost? That's what ghosts really are.
They're not dead people.
What? Is that what people think? Urgh! Ghosts are just imaginary friends who have been left behind.
I'll see you, Deb.
Think I'm going to head home, get drunk in the bath.
I better shake a leg, boys.
I've got to give a nudey lady a case of the heebie-jeebies.
Ha! Nice to meet you, George.
So long, Paddy.
So long I never learnt your name.
I wouldn't worry.
Ah! He reminds me of Joe at that age, same stupid face.
Aw! I've got to make a swift escape.
So long, you monochrome muppet Hey, let him know, if he ever needs me .
.
I don't know how he'd get in touch with me.
It's not like I have.
.
You know what, forget I said Never mind.
He said bye.
Aw! Bye.
Wrong way, buddy.
You cheeky bastard.
That's it, toots, bend that back.
Whoopsie-daisy! Where the hell is Michael Collins? Is that him? Oh! Oh, God! Ah, what a beautiful day for a battle.
I'd like to put on the record that I'm not behind this idea.
Shut up and do your thing, Godzilla! Ah! Rrarrgghh! If you want to stay around, you'll put some welly into it.
Ooh! I gave myself a little fright that time.
Actually, that was pretty good.
OK, lets go re-enact some Irish history! Yep! That's what we're doing.
Why do I have to share a room with this knob-bucket? But with the Moones, it was a symphony played by a one-armed, tone-deaf orchestra, performing an anthem so high-pitched only dogs could hear it.
It's just not fair! Life isn't fair, love.
Thank you.
Listen to the man! From this moment on, we are at war! When were we at peace? What are they fighting about now? I honestly can't remember.
I just use "life isn't fair" as my position on everything now.
Martin used my scrunchie as a catapult and now it's too baggy.
Well, you know I can't throw things manually.
All your dead arms have rendered my shoulders too weak.
I'm going to end you, you flute.
But I've barely started! Have you tried playing peek-a-boo? I've been peek-a-booing for an hour, Dessie.
Delma, is there any chance you could change Rose's nappy today? It's not her nappy, she's teething.
Are you sure? Because the smell is disgusting.
Oh, no, definitely teething Mammy Moone, believe me, I've seen Delma's nipples.
Oh, yes, I have, they're a mess, they are awful And so to escape the primal screams and the duelling banjos Shut up, Martin.
I wasn't even speaking.
Trisha Moone had sought the musical sanctuary of her grandad's house to study for her leaving cert.
Any danger of a cup of tea today? I brought you tea five minutes ago.
Though she was learning that age had made his rhythm a little rusty.
You forgot the sugar.
While you're up, get me a fresh cup of tea, will you? And break out the bourbon, will you? It's got to be five o'clock somewhere, right, Joe? Yeah! And the Bourbons too! Because growing old is like jazz.
You're still making music but sometimes the melody slips a little.
There's your flipping Bourbons.
Thanks, doll! There you go.
Why don't you buy yourself something nice? Like maybe a smile or something! Why do we have to learn history? It's all in the flipping past! Exactly! If we have to learn something, which I dispute, we should be learning the future.
Right! Not doing stupid exams on the Irish Civil War.
Yeah.
Just because it took place 70 years ago this week and changed the course of our nation? Who cares? Totally! It's a sack of nonsense.
Fighting over some dorky treaty that stimulated a tug-of-war between de Valera and Michael Collins to become the voice of a new Ireland? Bore off! Wait, you've been studying! What? No, I haven't.
We said we wouldn't study! We said we'd fail together and then just blame the whole flipping system.
I wasn't studying.
I just have a photographic memory.
I just stared at the book for ages and ages, read it and re-read it and then somehow remembered it.
That's studying, you big studier.
I'm not running away, I'm escaping, like de Valera from Lincoln Gaol! You don't think I should be studying too, do you, Sean? Oh, there's got to be another way.
We could burn down the school? Ah, some bloody swot would only rebuild it.
No, what we need is a first-hand account of the Irish Civil War to make our mediocre answers pop.
Yeah! Were you alive then? Keep thinking, buddy.
Ma'am? Well, the maths exam is going to be a breeze.
Wait.
Of course, I've got it! That's my boy.
You mean your grandad, right? That makes more sense.
Can I help with any of that, love? You want to help me study? God, no.
It just felt right to ask.
How's it working out studying over at Grandad's? He's, um He's A pain in the arse? Such a pain in the arse.
Go easy on him, Dr Huxtable says he's got early signs of Alzheimer's.
His doctor is called Huxtable? No, but he always wears flashy jumpers.
Oh, and he's black.
To be fair, Dad was a pain in the arse before he got sick.
Ah, Liam.
Hey, I hate to see him like this.
But when I was a teenager and he realised we had nothing in common, he told me I was adopted.
Were you? He delivered me himself! In the back of that stupid car.
Speaking of which, don't let him drive, he drives like he is out of his mind.
Which probably won't be helped by the Alzheimer's.
Just keep the poor fella stimulated and engaged.
And ignore the relentless hateful insults.
I'm sure he's mellowed with age.
He told me last night that I look like a reject from a vampire school.
Bingo! I remember bits and pieces from the civil war but I was only your age.
Oh, and my mind's not what it was.
Tell me about it, I can't even remember what I had for lunch today.
You haven't had lunch yet today, buddy.
Thing is, I lost my schoolbooks in a bet, so I'm kind of running low on options here.
But at least we know that a donkey can't outrun a train, don't we? God, that was a sad accident.
God, you're thick.
So, what sort of details are you looking for? Well, what can you remember about the spring of 1922? Well, the Anglo-Irish Treaty was causing all kinds of chaos.
There was a smell of fresh blood in the air.
Deadly.
Lovely stuff.
Keep it coming.
Everyone on the Sinn Fein side knew Nixon was a loose canon and, of course, there were rumours that de Valera had just got the H-Bomb.
What? That's a little surprising.
Nixon I don't think was Michael Collins led the fight anyway, storming the beaches of Normandy.
But what he didn't know was that Napoleon and the Japs were already dug in.
Oh, yeah, the Japs were big in Ireland at the time.
So, let me get this right, Grandad.
Prepare to die, you feckin' midget! Get off my beach, you lanky gombeen.
Ha-ha! You langer.
Merde! Unleash ze secret weapon! Wait! Are you saying Godzilla was pro-treaty? Are you still writing this down? Ah, come on, Martin.
The truth is, at that age, all I really did was listen to music.
Do you want me to play the piano? Wow! That's impressive.
How are you doing that? Not really a big music man, to be honest, Grandad.
As Churchill said, "Music is just a waste of a good walk.
" Wasn't that golf? Music is just a waste of a good golf? That's it.
Lucky I've got you to keep the facts straight, Grandad.
Hi, there.
You're new.
Hot dog! A fellow imaginary! How do you like that? I like it fine.
Wooh! You're a big fella.
Hey! Look! Who crapped you out, you;re like a big stupid tree.
Yeah, I'm a bit like a tree.
You want a drink, sasquatch? I'm buying! I do always encourage Martin to speak to strangers.
So why not? So, are you with the grumpy vampire broad? Er, no.
The idiot boy talking to Grandad.
Grandad! What a hoot.
He was just Little Joe last time I was around.
Now he's Wrinkly Old Joe.
But I can't complain, Paddy.
It's good to be back in the game! You're Grandad's childhood imaginary friend? Out of the flames like a funky phoenix.
Hey, let me ask you a question, Paddy.
How did the big war turn out? We won.
We did? Probably.
Do you think you're back for good? Why? What have you heard? I've heard nothing.
Good.
Let's keep it that way.
What? I'm yanking your chain, you big dumb Mick.
Eh! Want me to butt you? Want me to what me? A gasper.
A snipe.
A butt.
A cigarette, dumbo.
No, thanks, I'm good.
Turns out they're bad for you.
They said the same thing about opium, never did me no wrong.
Woof! You are a breath of fresh air, sir.
You're not so bad yourself, you stupid piece of shit.
You're so mean.
Hey, what did you say your name was again? Er, Sean.
Murphy.
That's a stupid name! Oh, you're serious.
Oh, good for you.
Hey, I'm George.
George Gershwin.
Kind of nice to meet you, George.
Thanks for your time, lads.
So I was wondering, if any of you are a bit confused about this whole civil-war thing, maybe we could all get together and do a kind of re-enactment.
What? Re-enactments are for knobs.
Yeah, he's right, they are.
Unless you mean like on Crimewatch.
Oh, now that's good telly.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Sure! Why not? Except, during the battle, maybe you can mention who you what side you're on, and what year it is.
General history.
All right, but I want to be de Valera.
Yeah, we're Dev.
Could I be Patrick Pearse's mother? I could be a postman at the GPO.
I want to be an innocent bystander! I'm going to be a Brit, so I can beat the shite out of all of you.
A civil-war re-enactment.
I was born to do this! Any chance you can drive down to the shop? We need some schnapps.
Yeah, and make it schnappy, will you? I told you, I can't drive.
Why did we even hire this hussy? Every Moone should be able to drive.
And why is that? For whatever the reason, we tend to land ourselves in situations that require a swift escape.
Like annoying grandparents? Why are you listening to that Nazi tripe? I've got an exam on that Nazi tripe.
If you want to learn anything, you should learn jazz.
I was in a great jazz band for years, you know.
I was a real swinging cat.
We were called Rhapsody In Boyle.
Rhapsody in Boyle Listen, Grandad, I'm trying to study.
Why don't you go in and watch telly or something? There's probably cartoons on somewhere.
Draculady sure has a sharp tongue.
I'd stick a stake in her heart but she ain't got none.
So Grandad's got an imaginary friend? Sure that's no surprise, he's always yapping away to himself.
The big weirdo.
Oh, yeah.
Yeah, his name's George Gershwin and he's some kind of music composer from the 1930s.
As I always say, "Music is just a waste of a good golf.
" Wise words, buddy.
But here's the thing, even though he's just come back, poor George may not be around for very much longer.
Why not? Well, you know, your grandad's really quite old and he might, um, you know, he might stop imagining him, is what I mean.
Well, let that be a warning to you, Sean.
Always keep me entertained.
Fair point.
Want me to do my trick? Oh, yeah.
Magic it up, beardface! OK.
Now, watch closely because this has always confused you.
You are some kind of a witch, Murphy.
Unbelievable.
So I've been thinking, before poor George bites the dust, we could have him make a kind of bucket list.
You ever hear of one of those? Yeah, I just finished writing one.
What? This is a list of things you want to do before you die? No, this is just a list of things I have inside this bucket.
Right.
Towel.
Trowel.
List of things I want to do before I die.
Driving gloves.
Ahh, the bare necessities Heading off now, Grandad! Good night! Grandad? I need to get to my gig.
What are you talking about? We're opening for ol' Fats Fatman.
And that greasy goon's got no time for nothing but a second dessert.
What gig? I can't be feckin' late! They're all waiting for me.
Are you sure it's tonight? Ah, feck it! Don't blow your wig, Joe.
I'm sure that fat fruitcake is still working on a fat fruitcake.
Why don't you come back inside and I'll fix us a fresh cuppa? Or something stronger.
Yeah, all right, love.
Be careful, Joe, I think she means blood.
A five and a three.
That's eight, eight for Joe.
This is great, isn't it Dad? Maths, property, colours, the whole shebang.
Why are we doing this shit? We're keeping you stimulated, like Dr Huxtable suggested.
Do you think that nickname is racist? I'm not decided on that.
Pearse Street.
Want to buy it, Joe? In Dublin? No way, Jose.
Had a situation with a stripper there once.
Had to make a swift escape.
Where's all your money gone, Dad? Oh, I've tucked that away for a rainy day.
Don't listen to them, Joe.
You'll be the one laughing when Black Wednesday hits 'em! Damn right, George.
Who's George? We're rumbled, Joe.
Sock him in the jewels and let's blow this joint.
I meant jacks.
I need the jacks.
Down the hall, on the right.
We know where the damn restroom is! Other way, Joe.
Has he been acting like this a lot? No, not really.
Did you know he was in a jazz band called Rhapsody In Boyle? He just likes telling stories, love.
Like you and the handball thing? Hey! I was a wonderful handballer.
Grandad isn't well, pet.
But if he gets any worse, you need to let us know.
Why? We'll have to move him into the hospital.
I don't think he'd like that, he loves being home.
And he's really not that bad.
Just talks to himself a bit but no more than Martin.
Well, we're pretty sure that Martin's got Alzheimer's too.
That's what I thought a bucket list was too but apparently, it means something else entirely.
Wait, does that mean I have to rewrite all of these? So what do you think? Are you in? I don't know.
It'd mean cancelling the civil-war re-enactment.
I'd been looking forward to that my whole life, since you told me about it yesterday.
Yeah, I do feel bad about that.
Ah, flip it! We'll do it next week.
It's settled.
Next week, civil war, this week, Gershwin.
Is that OK? A bucket list for George Gershwin.
I was born to do this.
Hey, take me for a drive, will you? You know I can't drive.
Then I'll drive.
Come on.
I've got my first exam in three days.
Can't you just go without me? Debra's on her way over to teach us line-dancing.
Isn't that something you'd like a swift escape from? I'll get you the keys.
A bucket list, huh? Ain't that a swell bell? So, you're up for it? I think it's a dandy plan, fellas.
Hah! You boys are the cat's miaow! What did he say? Not a clue.
Did you put this on? Want the Nazi tripe instead? No.
It's not terrible.
I just don't get why it matters.
Because I want to go to college.
College smollege.
We played clubs all over the country and the brightest women I ever met were a pair of exotic dancing twins called Booby and Tits O'Toole.
You think I should be a stripper? Not sure you have the ankles for it, to be honest.
Girls go to college now.
Ironically, it's mainly to have sex, but still In my day, everybody cheated their way through examinations.
Right.
And how did you do that? Oh, loads of ways.
Write the answers inside chewing-gum wrappers.
Bribe your teacher with a box of snuff.
Invisible ink.
That one doesn't even make sense.
Where the hell are we? How should I know? You're the one driving.
I thought there was a jazz club here.
The Flippity Flophouse.
What the hell is happening to me? Take me home.
Anything else? Well, let's see now.
Before the lights go out for good, I wanna play one last game of baseball.
Oh, baseball? OK.
What do you think, buddy? Would a game of rounders do, Mr G? Actually, he's standing over here.
But don't worry.
No point fretting about the logic at this stage.
This is kind of a long shot but is there any chance I could get behind the wheel of an automobile? An automobile? Hmmm! An automobile.
Er, I have a tractor? Of course you do.
Anything else, Mr Gershwin? How about one last tinkle on the ivories? Not sure that's the expression.
You know what would be aces? To see a nudey lady one last time.
OK.
Well, that might be tricky but we'll put it on the list.
Nudey lady, Martin.
Nudey lady, Padraic.
I already had it down.
How do I change gears? I don't know, I'm all confused.
Is it that? Try the pedal on the left.
I think that worked! More accelerator.
Don't be afraid of it.
Now throw in the clutch and get us up to third.
You seem better now.
Ah, comes and goes.
Stupid bloody illness.
Look at you, driving.
What is that? That's not I'm just going to throw it.
I'm going to throw it.
Badda-badda, swingball! Can't take my heat, bitch! You ready? Oh! Catch it, boys! Holy! Catch it! Catch it, boys! Catch it! Come on, he's getting around.
Knobs! She's a right bitch to started.
So Padraic will get her going, then jump off and you'll take the wheel.
Ha! I don't understand a word you're saying, Curly.
But let's do it! Tractor! Ha-ha! Get out of the way.
Woo-hoo! OK, Grandad.
Heel and heel, heel, now heel.
Go on.
Heel left.
Now three, now four.
Woo-hoo! Tractor! I've never driven this fast.
What the? Come on! Get it, Padraic! We'll lose the deposit.
Grandad? Grandad? Oh, I see.
Think I'm your bloody chauffeur now, do you? Forget your feckin' gig, Grandad.
Come on, it's freezing out here.
Grandad? I'm going to steal your wallet now, I'm not joking.
Grandad, you bollox.
And so it was that Martin Moone ended up at his first funeral for the only grandad he ever knew.
Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, you're all welcome.
And the only 1930s music composer he ever knew.
What can I say about Joe Moone? What can I say about George Gershwin? I didn't know him very well myself.
As Joe told me, he preferred to do his praying in private.
But like all of us, he was many different things to many people.
To some, a father.
To others, a grandfather.
to others, a valued customer of a burlesque club.
To some, he was a friend.
To some, a casually racist uncle.
To others, a crasher of tractors, a poppy puffer, a peeper of toms.
And to others still, he was I never actually met him.
A total stranger.
A man of mystery.
A friend we hadn't yet met.
Joe lived a long and eventful life.
I once visited him in the nursing home and he was full of fascinating memories, whether it was playing piano for Chubby Checker, or gun-running for Ghandi, or, of course, filming the moon landing.
George Gershwin lived a very short life and then disappeared.
And then he came back and lived an even shorter life.
So, like a really great film, George had a sequel, which wasn't quite as good as the original.
And although he wasn't the hero, he was a hero, sort of.
And on this very sad day, I'm reminded of these poetic words.
But above all, Joe was a music man.
So, what better way to say goodbye than through the work of his hero, George Gershwin? Where have all the good men gone? And where are all the gods? Where is the street-wise Hercules to fight the rising odds? I need a hero.
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night.
Do you mind if I join you, love? He would've hated this.
Ah, yeah.
But sure, he hated most things.
This is what he would have wanted.
Yeah.
This but with strippers.
Ah! He was a dirty old bastard.
And he's got to be strong.
And he's got to be fast.
And he's got to be fresh from the fight.
Gershwin? You potato-munchers sure know how to throw a good funeral.
Thank you for coming.
Hi.
Goodbye.
Thank you.
Doctor.
A hell of a jumper.
It's a real doozie, fellas.
I thought I was headed for that big speakeasy in the sky.
But then I just kept on existing.
So I suppose you're a ghost now? A ghost? That's what ghosts really are.
They're not dead people.
What? Is that what people think? Urgh! Ghosts are just imaginary friends who have been left behind.
I'll see you, Deb.
Think I'm going to head home, get drunk in the bath.
I better shake a leg, boys.
I've got to give a nudey lady a case of the heebie-jeebies.
Ha! Nice to meet you, George.
So long, Paddy.
So long I never learnt your name.
I wouldn't worry.
Ah! He reminds me of Joe at that age, same stupid face.
Aw! I've got to make a swift escape.
So long, you monochrome muppet Hey, let him know, if he ever needs me .
.
I don't know how he'd get in touch with me.
It's not like I have.
.
You know what, forget I said Never mind.
He said bye.
Aw! Bye.
Wrong way, buddy.
You cheeky bastard.
That's it, toots, bend that back.
Whoopsie-daisy! Where the hell is Michael Collins? Is that him? Oh! Oh, God! Ah, what a beautiful day for a battle.
I'd like to put on the record that I'm not behind this idea.
Shut up and do your thing, Godzilla! Ah! Rrarrgghh! If you want to stay around, you'll put some welly into it.
Ooh! I gave myself a little fright that time.
Actually, that was pretty good.
OK, lets go re-enact some Irish history! Yep! That's what we're doing.