The Nick White Show: “Paris’ Perfume”

From the video description:

Atlanta and Paris are arguing about Paris’ exorbitant spending in her pursuit to bag a billionaire… until Nick shows up and gives Paris some unwanted pointers about what she’s really lacking.

Nick and Sally’s commentary:

“That awful showrunner woman took her time building the set for this one, Sally. But once again, she wouldn’t listen to my good ideas, like building the walls out of bricks of cocaine.”
“Well, that’s probably for the best, Mr. White. I don’t think Mr. Garcetti would want you snorting the walls of his strip club.”
“Nonsense! Luigi and I get along just fine! He’s just too busy to answer the phone when I call, that’s all.”

Music credits

I used an instrumental mix of a track from my back catalog from my old maQLu project called “Au Revoir, Goodbye Little Whore.” I can’t remember if I have it up anywhere as a free download currently as I was unsatisfied with the original lyrics and wanted to redo the song, but there’s a bunch of other free maQLu downloads available.

Transcript (ie, spoiler alert)

(Paris and Atlanta are hanging out in the strippers’ changeroom at Lucky Luigi’s.)

PARIS: Ugh, my phone sucks! This is why I need a rich husband, so I can afford a decent phone that takes good selfies!

ATLANTA: Dude! You make real good bread here, what the Hell do you spend it on?

PARIS: Just the basics. Got my nails done, got my asshole waxed, got the $400 Marc Jacobs Kiss Pop lipstick set…

ATLANTA: You spent how much on lipstick? Just buy drugstore brands, no one can tell!

PARIS: It’s a limited edition collector set! Next you’ll be saying I shouldn’t have bought that $1200 Tom Ford perfume!

ATLANTA: Damn right!

PARIS: Look, Atlanta: I’m trying to hook a billionaire: I gotta smell expensive!

ATLANTA: Dudes don’t care! I just dab a little cheap lavender oil behind my ears and I get lots of complements.

PARIS: You’re just jealous that your man wouldn’t buy you Tom Ford perfume!

ATLANTA: You don’t have a man, Paris, you bought it yourself!

(Pádraig and Nick enter.)

PARIS: Pádraig! Settle an argument for us – who smells better?

PÁDRAIG (to Atlanta): You smell like a hippie weed dealer.

(Pádraig walks to Paris.)

PÁDRAIG (to Paris): And you smell like an English whore.

(Pádraig and Nick sit down.)

PARIS: Hmph! Nick, you be the judge instead. Which of us smells more likely to marry a billionaire?

NICK: What’s smell got to do with anything? You want to marry a billionaire, buy yourself some tits and work on your blowjob technique.

PARIS: What’s wrong with my blowjob technique?

(Nick and Pádraig both laugh.)

PÁDRAIG: It’s terrible, innit?

NICK: Yes, even my first wife was better, and she was so bad at it that I had to divorce her.

PÁDRAIG: You’d think the English whore would have had more practise by now.

NICK: Well, they do say practise makes perfect. Unless, of course, you’re practising your mistakes.

PARIS: Assholes!

NICK: No, see, that’s a common misconception. But putting your finger back there doesn’t make up for your dreadful technique up front.

PARIS: No, I meant you’re assholes, you and Pádraig!

NICK: Get your mind out of the gutter, woman. I can’t speak for the mick but I certainly don’t swing that way!

PÁDRAIG: I don’t either!

NICK: And if I did, surely I could do a lot better than him!

PÁDRAIG: Likewise! I wouldn’t fuck a bloody Englishman like you!

NICK: Well, I wouldn’t fuck a goddamn paddy!

PARIS: Ugh, gross!

NICK: Exactly!

PARIS: No, you’re gross!

NICK: Pfft! Says the titless ginger who thinks she’s gonna land a billionaire without any boobs!

PARIS: How dare you!

NICK: How dare I what, love? Point out that neither Pamela Anderson nor Anna Nicole Smith had that pesky “no rich husband” problem?

PARIS: Damn it, I asked about my expensive perfume and you broke losers keep talking about my boobs instead!

NICK: Don’t you call me a broke loser! I’ll have you know I’m worth 250 million dollars. Unless Mrs. White is asking, then I’m in debt up to my eyeballs and those websites saying I’m worth at least 80 million are damnable liars.

PARIS: Whatever, you’re still no billionaire. I wouldn’t expect you to appreciate the finer things in life like my 1200 dollar perfume.

NICK: 1200 dollar perfume? Good Lord, woman: that’s a quarter of the way to a nice big set of billionaire baiting implants! See, Pádraig, this is why the national debt is sky high ever since we let them vote.

ATLANTA: Voting’s for squares anyway, man. It’s all rigged. That’s why I don’t bother.

NICK: Atta girl!

(Nick walks over to Paris.)

Nick: See, darling, you should be more like, er, Heidi Hippie here.

ATLANTA: Whoa, man… Just for that, I’m raising the price of your weed 25%.

NICK: What if I say you smell nicer than the ginger?

ATLANTA: Alright, dude. Only 20.