From the video description:
Nick is talking at Pádraig about the Met Gala when his manager pops in to nag him about his new album (or lack thereof).
Nick and Sally’s commentary:
“It was nice of Suzy to pop by and say hello, Sally. Too bad that’s not all she said.”
“Well, Mr. White, I can understand why Zosime has so much to say, being your manager and all.”
“Manager’s assistant.”
“Right. That’s what I meant, Mr. White.”
“Have you heard anything from Mark about when he’s back from vacation?”
“Well, no, Mr. White, but he did a send a postcard from Tahiti not too long ago.”
“Really? What does it say?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I thought it was a personal note so I just put it on your desk without reading it.”
“Well, go fetch it and read it to me.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather read it yourself?”
“Yes, I need to rest my eyes. I just had them lifted and I don’t want to get any fresh crow’s feet from squinting at Mark’s handwriting.”
“OK, Mr. White. I think it says ‘Greetings from Tahiti, so long sucker! Glad you’re not here.'”
“Ah, that Mark always had a wry sense of humor. Can’t wait til he’s back to tell me what sorts of exotic social diseases he’s catching down there in the South Pacific.”
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)
(Nick and Pádraig are sitting around in the strippers’ changeroom at Lucky Luigi’s, talking. Well, Nick is talking, but Pádraig is staring at the ceiling.)
NICK: … so I skipped the Met Gala.
PÁDRAIG: I would, yeah.
NICK: Too many boring people!
PÁDRAIG: That’s the job!
NICK: And they keep letting the uggos in.
PÁDRAIG: Langers.
NICK: Er, yes… what does “langers” mean again?
PÁDRAIG: So I do, yeah.
NICK: Bloody Hell, I can’t make heads or tails of your paddy-ese today.
PÁDRAIG: Great craic, boy.
(Zosime enters with a triple platinum album award plaque.)
NICK: Suzy! Lovely to see you, love; is Mark back from his vacation yet?
ZOSIME: My name is not Suzy, it’s Zosime. I’ve told you a thousand times!
NICK: Now, Suzy, are you on the rag this week? Tsk tsk… Mark will be very annoyed when he hears you’re being rude to his best client.
ZOSIME: Mark retired three years ago! We’ve been over this, I’m your manager now. And you’re my worst client!
NICK: Pfft… women can’t be managers! See, Pádraig, I told you my manager’s assistant is hilarious! At least as far as women go.
ZOSIME: Shut up, pig!
(She hands him the plaque, then sits down.)
ZOSIME: Here’s another multiplatinum award for you to snort your damn coke off of. Only took your album Headlights 30 years to go triple platinum.
NICK: Well, it’s about time!
ZOSIME: Speaking of time, Bon Jovi’s spending his out on tour right now, and you’re doing what exactly?
NICK: Pádraig and I are gossiping about the Met Gala. Isn’t that right, Pádraig?
PÁDRAIG: Ah, is that what you were going on and on about, ya gimp? I wasn’t listening.
NICK: Yes, Pádraig. The Met Gala. It’s all over the internet and the tabloids and — wait… do they even have internet where you come from? Or tabloids?
PÁDRAIG: I don’t waste me precious time reading tabloids. That’s for the bloody English like!
ZOSIME: Yes, the Met Gala: one of the biggest see-and-be-seen events on the planet… that you got yourself perma-banned from 20 years ago when you puked in Anna Wintour’s purse.
NICK: Which one’s Anna Wintour again? She’s not the blonde with the great big knockers, is she?
ZOSIME: No, that was Anna Nicole Smith. Anna Wintour runs Vogue.
NICK: I should call Anna Nicole Smith up. Rather, I should feel her up…
ZOSIME: Well, you’ll either need a Ouija board or a noose… preferably the latter.
NICK: Now, Suzy, I’m not into that weird noose kink. I’m far too good looking to risk dying like that when there’s so many sluts I still haven’t fucked.
ZOSIME: Ugh. When is your album going to be ready?
NICK: I’m waiting for George O’Riley to have an opening in his schedule for it.
ZOSIME: And when will that be?
NICK: I think George said he can maybe squeeze me in next May.
ZOSIME: That is unacceptable! Get another producer!
NICK: But George is fun! He’s not a slavedriver like all the others, cracking the whip and expecting me to just be brilliant on cue.
ZOSIME: I assure you no one has ever mistaken you for brilliant. I will make some calls and find someone with better availability. Where are the demos? Do you have any new hits written?
NICK: Everything I write is a hit, love.
(Zosime and Pádraig laugh.)
ZOSIME: Yeah, that’s not what the charts say… So no album or tour for at least 2 years at this rate. What are you doing to bring in money in the meantime?
NICK: Good Lord, Suzy… you sound like Mrs. White!
ZOSIME: I want my 20%, you prick! And that means get off your lazy ass, get the album done, and get out on tour!
NICK: You know, Suzy, Mrs. White said the exact same thing to me just this morning… only she wanted half!
ZOSIME: Tell her to get in line!
NICK: Oh no, Suzy… No no no no no… the last time I told Mrs. White to get in line was 5 years ago when she barged her way backstage at the end of a tour and I was busy fucking groupies. All I remember was a Marshall-branded mini-fridge flying at the back of the girl on top of me’s head… then everything went red, then black… then I woke up 3 weeks later and had to get my nose fixed yet again. So… don’t say such things to Mrs. White. She hates waiting in line.
ZOSIME: Fine, I’ll just tell her to improve her aim. Why throw a fridge if you’re not gonna hit the target?
NICK: Oh, she hit the target alright. That brunette never saw it coming. It’s a pity Mrs. White doesn’t like sports, she’d be a shoo-in for all sorts of gold medals.
PÁDRAIG: Throwing beer fridges isn’t an Olympic sport, ya dope.
NICK: What about midgets? She tossed one clear across Splash Mountain one time when the midget asked me to sign her tiny tits.
ZOSIME: Less talk, more songwriting. Call it “Splash Mountain Slut Toss.” It’ll be terrible, but at least you’ll get the job done.
NICK: Ugh, God. If you’re gonna crack the whip on me, Suzy, can’t you at least wear tight black leather?
ZOSIME: No. Get to work.
NICK: “Where’s my money? Get out of my house. No, I’m not wearing tight black leather while I whip you.” Bloody Hell, you women are never satisfied.
ZOSIME: We’d all be satisfied if you’d just do your damn job!
NICK: There you go sounding like Mrs. White again!
(Zosime walks up to Nick, grabs the ends of his scarf, and proceeds to choke him with it.)
ZOSIME: You get your fat ass back to your studio and grab your guitar and get writing that fucking album or I’ll be tossing beer fridges at your head like Mrs. White too!
NICK: OK, OK, OK… Goddamn it. Fine.