Ted & Michael Read Sketches Into Microphones

Season 2, Episode 7 Transcript

June 17, 2020

Gillian: Hello everyone. And welcome to a very special episode of “Ted and Michael Read Sketches Into Microphones” with Ted O’Gorman and Michael Paul Smith.

—

MPS: Hey guys. So, um…

Ted: Hello.

MPS: Hi Ted. I was sort of counting on that greeting going without saying.

Ted: Thought I’d jump in there for ya, Mike.

MPS: we’re gonna do this episode a little differently. We have a little bit of a movie pitch to give you guys. We don’t have access to any Hollywood big shots, so we put something together ourselves. And if you know anybody, pass it along. We’re just gonna put it out there and hope that it falls into the right hands. This is our pitch for a new action movie, and we’ve recorded four key sections for you.

Ted: So basically what we took was a formula that’s been used many times. Kind of the “fish out of water” cop story. Meaning that one local cop is having trouble, and they invite someone in from a foreign country. Kind of the Jackie Chan, Christ Tucker “Rush Hour” formula.

MPS: Right.

Ted: Ok without further adieu, here is the first excerpt from our yet to be produced film, Irish Cop.

MPS: Here we go.
—

“Irish Cop”

Tyrone: I can’t do it, anymore, commissioner. I can’t catch another case!

Sargent: Detective, this guy confessed to killing his wife. Just bring this home. I want my clearance.

Tyrone: But I’m not sure now. What if I’m wrong? False confessions are a thing.

Sargent: You’ve been watching too many movies, Tipperary.

Tyrone: Well…documentaries about false confessions, yeah. I’ve been studying…

Sargent: Get OUT of my office!

Tyrone: Am I fired?

Sargent: No.

Tyrone: Demoted?

Sargent: No.

Tyrone: Then…what’s my punishment?

Sargent: You’re getting a new partner.

Ted and Mike: County Kerry, Ireland

Ted: Cue the music.

MPS: Cue the sheep.

Marty McLaren: Mornin’ Sarge. I’ve finally closed the case of who was stealing old Farmer Finnegan’s rutabaga. County Kerry is the safest nook of the emerald isle once more.

Sarge: Alright Marty, was your theory correct?

Marty McLaren: Well sir, first let me say how thankful I am for you letting me chase down this longshot. For a time, I suspected that the local rabbits were talking to each other and wearin’ wee blue vests. But then I found a pile of rutabaga stumps in a local school. After a little detective work, I determined the thief to be…

Sarge: Don’t keep in suspense, McLaren!

Marty McLaren: On a hunch, I brought in Little Timmy “The Rutabaga Fecker” O’Flanagan. Age sixteen. Something told me perhaps he’d earned his nickname.

Sarge: Annnnnd?

Marty McLaren: He confessed to the lot. After I slapped him with a hurley stick and threatened him with the Catherine wheel.

Sarge: Brilliant work!

Marty: Sure enough that fella was boring holes in those poor little vegetables with his father’s drill and filling them soap so he could…

Sarge: Now I’ve got some news for you, Marty. We’ve been wired from America. You’re wanted in Detroit Michigan.

Marty: As long as I’ve been a member of the Engorda Schochana Constabulary, I’ve followed orders. If I need to ship out on a freighter…

Sarge: Marty, they’ll fly you out….

Marty: IF I NEED TO SHIP OUT ON A FREIGHTER, BY JAYYYZUS I’LL DO IT.

—

MPS: After two long weeks at sea, Marty arrives at 1 Police Plaza, Detroit Michigan.

Sargent: Marty, welcome aboard. This is your partner. You boys play nice. Be safe out there.

Tyrone: Open or closed, Sarge?

Sargent: Closed.

*Tyrone closes door

Marty: Marty McLaren, special detectives unit of the Garda Siochana, reporting for duty, and pleased to make your acquaintance.

Tyrone: You can just call me Tyrone there, Irish.

Marty: Tyrone! You don’t say! I spent a good deal of my youth in the county of Tyrone. Is that what you’re named for?

Tyrone: I doubt it.

Marty: Well what’s your last name then?

Tyrone: Tipperary.

Marty: YOU’RE PUTTIN’ ME ON, NOW! I spent even more of my youth in county Tipperary. Where the girls were fast, and the coarsing bets were faster. Do you know much about coarsing here in America?

Tyrone: Nah, Irish. We don’t do too much of…whatever that is. Come on, let’s hit the road.

Marty: Shall we dispense with whatever hazing you were planning and get it out of the way, then? Do you do much hazing here in America?

Tyrone: Not in the detective squad.

Marty: Were you planning on givin’ me a quick spanking? Maybe to throw some glitter in my skivvies? Fill my boarding house with butterflies? No?

Tyrone: You done?

Marty: Am I done? Are you done–that’s the question. Have you already arranged to have me tied down so you and your chums could eat hot chowder out of my belly button?

*Tyrone exits

Marty: It’s a deep one. So it’ll damn sure take you a good long while!

—

Tyrone: Let’s grab a bite while things on the street are slow.

Marty: I’ll take a steak and kidney pie.

Guy: We don’t have those.

Marty: What do you mean you don’t have steak and kidney pies? What kind of a…Dunkin’ Donuts is this?

Tyrone: Oh, come on, Irish!

Marty: What’s the matter, Tyrone? Where have you taken me? Land of opportunity but then there’s none to get a steak and kidney pie. I’ll just take some of your pipe tobacco.

Guy: We don’t have that either.

Marty: I’ll just take a pack of Benson and Hedges. Unfiltered then now.

Guy: We don’t have that.

Marty: Well, guess I’ll fuck off. I’ve got some of my own pig’s trotter in the car. Come on, Tyrone. There’s lowlifes to be sniffed out of their hidey holes.

*They exit.

Guy: What the hell just happened?

*In the car

Tyrone: This is where the Killa Dillahs lay their heads. They’ve been the baddest gang in Detroit since the 1930’s.

Marty: That soon?

Tyrone: I know. They’re an institution.

Marty: I’m not being sarcastic, Tyrone. The newest gang in Ireland is still over 300 years old. Their grudges are in history books, their members encompass whole family trees.

Tyrone: This is where the Pig Pens run things. They’re the Killa Dillahs’ sworn enemies.

Marty: Alright.

Tyrone: Most gangs get tattoos. The Pig Pens never shower. And they wear these filthy overalls, and there’s always a cloud of dust around them…

Marty: We get “Peanuts” in Ireland, Tyrone. It’s not the stone age.

Tyrone: And this part of town is owned by the Hole In The Ear Gang—they pierce your ear…before they kill your ass.

Marty: What is it with American gangsters and their jewelry? I don’t understand it.

Tyrone: What are they like in Ireland?

Marty: Well for starters, there’s a saying. We don’t have a gang problem in Ireland. The gangs in Ireland have a Marty problem. But the two gangs that are the biggest thistles in my rear–if you know what I’m gettin’ at–

Tyrone: I rarely do, Marty.

Marty: …are the Portly Boys…

Tyrone: The what?

Marty: The Portly Boys. They control most of the east coast. When they’re not fighting, they’re eating lamb chops and buttered peas. But occasionally they come down to invade their sworn enemies–the Rainbow Piccadillies.

Tyrone: Now I know you’re fuckin’ with me.

Marty: The Rainbow Piccadillies are the best group of pickpockets I’ve ever known. They’re all fantastic dancers. They distract old ladies with their flawless technique, steal their purses, and the old ladies usually thank them for it later!

Tyrone: Is that right?

Marty: It is! I always tell them that they’d make a lot more money if they just put on a show at the national theatre. But oh no. “Where’s the sport in that?” they say.

Tyrone: So what do you do? How do you go after them?

Marty: I tried to learn step-dance to infiltrate them undercover-like. But they wouldn’t accept me.

Tyrone: Yeah?

Marty: I practiced for weeks. Steppin’ on every rooftop and smokestack that would have me. I’m still not over it. It’s all politics. Who you know, and the like.

—

Ted: So at this point in the story, Marty and Tyrone get a big break when their detective squad gets an anonymous tip that a Hole In The Ear kingpin has kidnapped a prominent pig pen member.

*Marty and Tyrone rap on the perp’s door.

Tyrone: Morris Speigelman! Open up! Police!

*Marty raps his shalaleh on the door–hard.

Tyrone: Easy, Irish…You really can swing that weird lookin’ thing.

Marty: Old Shelaleh-in-red here, as I like to call her—the red bein’ from other people’s blood.

Tyrone: I get it.

Marty: She’s been with me through thick and thin. And she’ll have a date back home with some Rainbow Piccadillies when they least expect it.

Morris: Who is it?

Tyrone: Detectives. Open up.

Marty: We’ll just call you Martha and the Vandellas from here on out, Morris. Cause there’s nowhere to run to, baby.

*The door opens.

Morris: Detectives. Whatever can this humble citizen do for you?

Tyrone: Cut the crap, Morris. We have a search warrant. Let me see your hands.

Morris: Please—by all means. I’m always ready to cooperate with the servers and protectors.

Marty: You’ll be cooperating with my shalaleh if you don’t shut your good-for-nothin’ gob.

Morris: Oh! You’re that Irish cop everyone’s been talkin’ about.

Marty: Well what gave you that idea? Was it my accent or my freckles you dumb feck.

Morris: Welcome to Detroit City. Detective.

Tyrone: This place is cleaned out. Somebody was expecting us.

Morris: Well, I always enjoy your company, Detective Tipperary. But I’m afraid it’s not all that scandalous. I simply decided to value space over clutter.

Marty: What’s that in the corner?

Tyrone: That’s a crib, Marty.

Marty: Do you know what my crib was, when I was a wee one? The floor!

Tyrone: Dammit! How’d you know we were coming, Speigelman? Who tipped you off?!?

Morris: You boys have a nice night. And hey—feel free to grab some coal from my grill outside, detective McLaren. I saw “Angela’s Ashes.” I know how your people love their coal.

Marty: My boarding house is heated with squeaky American radiators, so joke’s on you, you… lousy…

Morris: Me? Me what? You wanna insult my religious background don’t you, Detective McLaren?

Marty: I do not.

Morris: Go ahead. You probably think I’m a Christ killer, right? Go ahead, say it!

Tyrone: Easy, Irish. Don’t take the bait.

Marty: Not at all, Morris. The Jews didn’t kill Christ. But they paid the Guineas to do it. It’s how your mafia got started. Everybody knows that.

Tyrone: Damn, man. Let’s get the hell outta here. We got Sarge’s retirement party to go to.

—

MPS: Later that night. Outside the bar, at Sarge’s retirement party.

—

Tyrone: Things are hot now, Irish. This shit with the Pig Pens and the Hole In The Ears. We’re poking a giant!

Marty: I know it. I brought all this attention. My very bein’ here raises the stakes on this gang war. They’re liable to team up! But I’ll tell ya somethin’ Tyrone. That crib at Spiegelman’s gives me the idea that they’re hiding drugs in baby products.

*Tyrone starts throwing up.

Marty: Little under the weather, are ya, Tyrone?

Tyrone: Well yeah Marty. We’ve been drinking straight Tullamore Dew non-stop for hours. I don’t know how many bottles we went through.

Marty: Oh, look! The newsstands are opening up. Shall we have a go at today’s crossword puzzle?

*Tyrone continues throwing up.

Marty: Lovely damp in the air this mornin’. Think I’ll have myself wanna those egg and pork sandwiches after confession.

Tyrone: It’s 4:30 in the mornin’ Irish. I’m not sure you’re gonna find an open church right now.

Marty: Do you mean you don’t have 24 hour confession here in America? I used to be able to have a quick one at a traffic stop.

Tyrone: In the car?

Marty: Yes! The priest would come right out to your car, and then you can say your penance on your way home!

*Tyrone throws up.

Marty: Tyrone has your drink been tampered with somehow?

Tyrone: Yeah I tampered about 70 of them down my throat.

Marty: Is that all? I thought you were keeping pace! Simply confess your sins to the Lord and you’ll likely be cured in minutes.

—
Ted: Alright Mike we’re about to start section four, here. You wanna set the scene?

MPS: Yeah we’re ramping up to the climax here. And the war comes right away. Tyrone is awoken from his hangover the very next morning by gunfire in and around his apartment. Marty’s confessional priest shoots at him through the confessional screen and misses. Tyrone and Marty somehow survive and reconvene, only to find out that all the Detroit gangs have united against them, and that an unknown percentage of the DPD has been compromised. Tyrone and Marty take an unmarked car rogue, and continue operating—constantly on the move.

—

Dispatcher (on their radio) Car 98 please respond. Car 98 please advise as to your location.

Tyrone: Turn it off, Irish.

Marty: Just a minute. (Into the radio) This is Detective Marty McLaren. You can tell Speigelman and all the other muskrats…

Tyrone: (Interrupting) Huh?

Marty: (Continuing) That I and First grade detective Tyrone Tipperary won’t rest until they’re dealt with.

Tyrone: Oh, shit, Irish! That’s their headquarters!

Marty: How can you be certain?

Tyrone: It’s a warehouse and it says H.I.T.E.G Headquarters.

Marty: Hole In The Ear Gang Headquarters. Of course. Maybe it’s a trap.

Tyrone: I didn’t say we should go in the front.

—

MPS: So the criminal meeting is underway. Tyrone and Marty have snuck in the back door.

—

Morris: So…what I propose…is basically what Cyrus from The Warriors proposed. But with police cooperation. Sound good?

*The room makes noises of agreement.

Marty: Hey Speigelman. Bit of advice. Beware of anyone with an “explosive” Irish temper.

Criminals: Oh shit, oh no, etc.

*An explosion

Tyrone: Marty, what was that?

Marty: Oh I went ahead and planted 70 pounds of C-4 under the floorboards while you were havin’ a shyte. It was nothin’!

*Larger explosion

Tyrone: JESUS, Marty! I thought we were gonna arrest these guys!

Marty: You never call me Marty, Tyrone. How nice!

Tyrone: You didn’t even say “Stop, police!”

Marty: Too bad we couldn’t stop Speigelman from “going to pieces.”

Tyrone: I didn’t even know you knew how to do that.

Marty: That’s racist, Tyrone.

Tyrone: Shit, I’m sorry. But you killed seventeen guys!

Marty: Oh it’s nothin’.

Tyrone: It’s somethin’ Irish!

—

Mayor Michelle: You two officers have saved the city of Detroit. On behalf of the people of the city of Detroit, I, the mayor of Detroit, Michelle Rodriguez, give you these medals.

Marty: A woman mayor. Will you look at that!

—

Marty: Detective Inspector Marty McLaren. I’ve returned to my native Dublin to finish what I started. The Portly Boys, and those immensely talented Rainbow Piccadilies, have plagued this country for one generation too many.

Clerk: This is “Steak and Kidney Pie oh My!”, detective. It’s a fast food chain.

Marty: I know that, young man. Just being clear about my intentions. Give me pies one through nine, to go. Off you go then now.

Tyrone: Yo, Irish.

Marty: Tyrone?

Tyrone: You didn’t think I’d let you take on those Portly Boys all by yourself, did you?

Marty: You didn’t have to come all this way, Tyrone.

Tyrone: Ireland came to Detroit. Guess it’s time for Detroit to go to Ireland.

Marty: Well what shall we do first?

Tyrone: I’m thinkin’ of getting fitted for a shelale.

—

Michael: So Ted that went really well. That just felt really good to me.

Ted: Yeah. I think as far as a pich goes, how can you say no to that?
Michael: I think the offers are gonna start coming in. i think we should think about getting a hotline like Bill Murray just to handle the sheer volume of calls that are sure to come.

Ted: Yeah.

Michael: We should probably get a femme fatale type character in there, too. Just for marketability.

Ted: I don’t know. A lot of women are in movies these days.

Michael: That’s true. Get your checkbooks out!

Ted: A lot of that investment money is gonna go toward research, cause we didn’t do any about what life or law enforcement is like in Ireland…or Detroit for that matter.

Michael: Or New York. And we’re FROM New York.

Michael: Anything else you’d change?

Ted: I did just realize that McLaren’s a Scottish name. I don’t think anyone’ll notice.

—

Ted: I’d like to dedicate this episode to every fictional English teacher from every TV show that takes place in a high school. Somehow, the theme that you’re explaining to your students is always also the theme of the episode of the show that you’re on. How did you know? How is your timing so impeccable?

Michael: Stay tuned for outtakes, all you beautiful people, as Ted and I are deeply deeply flawed. And an unreleased track from the “Irish Cop” soundtrack. What?!

Ted: Tentatively titled: “Shalaleh Wit.”

Michael: We didn’t discuss that at all.

Michael: And of course we have a new episode coming out next week. You can hear me on Gillian’s podcast The Hamilcast, from time to time. You can find that show on Twitter and Instagram @thehamilcast. And she also has a True Crime podcast called True Crime Obsessed, and you can find them on Twitter @truecrimeobsess (no e-d).

—

“Outtakes”

*Manny retches

Michael: You need to put that on your “Special Skills.” That shit is realistic.

—

Ted: The Jews didn’t kill Christ. But they paid the Guineas to do it. It’s how your mafia got started. Everybody knows that.

*Laughter

Michael: The idea that the mafia is a 2000 year old institution…

Ted: Based on them taking the first hit. And it was Christ.

—

Ted: So what I propose is basically what Cyrus from “The Warriors” proposed, but with police…oh, sorry.

MPS: Just waiting for you to notice.

—

Ted: I fucked up the “Irish who?” on the first one…I’m sure I fucked up more than that.

—

MPS: It’d be great if we had Marty McLaren bloopers. During the credits, the fake credits.

Ted: “Where’s me eyeline? Where’s me eyeline? Where am I supposed to look? What are these fellas doin’ here?”

—

Ted: A woman mayor. Jesus wept.

—

Gillian: We can salvage it, I think.

—

Ted: You want one more?

MPS: You got that in your pocket now, man.

Gillian: That was great. That was great.

Ted: Cracking Gillian up is the best reward.

—

MPS: Yo when the streets in the D were as dark as can be,
Ted: And the crooks and the criminals were growin’ on trees,
MPS: Who’s gonna float on a boat to make ‘em stop?
All: He’s Irish! What? Irish! Who? Irish cop!
Ted: He’s Marty McLaren and he’s here to fight
MPS: He’s swingin’ his shalaleh on the side of right.
Ted: Tyrone’s on the phone, in person, and in sight.
All: With the Irish! What? Irish! Who? Irish cop!
Break it down! Huh!

—

“Credits”

Gillian: Ted and Michael Read Sketches Into Microphones was written by Michael Paul Smith and Ted O’Gorman, with some room for improvisation because this is a comedy podcast, guys. We’re not tied to the page. The podcast was produced by me, Gillian Pensavalle, and edited by me and Michael Paul Smith. You can subscribe everywhere you get your podcasts, and we’d really really appreciate it if you rate and review us on apple podcasts. Those reviews help a lot, and to be honest, you don’t wanna be on Ted’s bad side. Follow the guys on twitter @tedandmichael; individually @tedogorman, @mpsmithnyc, and use the hashtag #tedandmichael on all the things. For love notes and hate mail, use tedandmichael@gmail.com. Visit www.tedandmichael.com for episodes and full credits, including voice over actors and music tracks.
Thanks again for listening. Stay weird, friends.