From the video description:
Nick just wants to read (or at least look at the pictures in) the latest issue of Hot Yacht Action before bedtime, but his wife Joanne ambushes him with some pesky questions inspired by the infamous Oscar slap.
Nick and Sally’s commentary:
“My God, Sally, what a bloody nightmare to film this one. I was stuck in bed with Mrs. White for almost 2 weeks waiting for that awful woman who runs this show to get her shit together and finish filming.”
“Hmph!”
“I know! I thought I’d never get away and be free to bang bimbos again!”
“Hmph!”
“What’s the matter, love?”
“Nothing, Mr. White.”
“Did you miss me around the studio when I was gone?”
“Well… I mean…”
“Aww… anyway, Sally, was there any good gossip while I was away filming?”
“Bono won another prestigious prize. The Fulbright prize for International Understanding.”
“Hmph! How dare he! I should have won that instead!”
“But it’s an international relations prize, Mr. White.”
“Yes, well, I’ve had plenty of international relations. In fact, I’ve had relations in over 120 nations around the planet. Nobody’s had more international relations than me! Not even Gene Simmons!”
“Yes, Mr. White.”
“Bad enough I had to spend two weeks in bed with Mrs. White, but Bono stole another award from me while I was imprisoned? Goddamn it! Sally, write these awful Fulbright people a nasty letter admonishing them for not giving that prize to me instead!”
“Right away, Mr. White.”
Music credits
Yours truly as usual; an unreleased maQLu track called “Ginger” – same as last week. Just a little bit at the top and bottom of the video, the better to hear Nick make an ass of himself.
Transcript (ie, spoiler alert)
(Nick and his wife Joanne are in bed reading. He has a copy of Hot Yacht Action, she is reading Serial Killers From A to Z.)
JOANNE: Did you see the Oscars the other night?
NICK: Pfft! I don’t watch awards shows, love. Bad enough that I sometimes have to go those dreadful affairs.
JOANNE: It was very interesting, though.
NICK: Yes, darling, it was interesting to you because you’re a woman and you like looking at all the pretty dresses and sparkly things.
JOANNE: Actually, my favorite part was when Will Smith defended his wife’s honor and slapped that asshole comedian who made fun of her.
NICK: Will Smith… hmm… can’t seem to place him, dear.
JOANNE: He’s a famous actor. Haven’t you run into him before?
NICK: Now, darling, you know perfectly well the only people I’ve ever run into were a podiatrist and a kindergarten teacher. And it’s not my fault! They stepped into the road in front of my Ferrari!
JOANNE: Yes, in a crosswalk.
NICK: They’re not supposed to step off the sidewalk until it’s safe to do so! She was a kindergarten teacher: she of all people ought to know to look both ways and wait til the cars are all gone! And hold an adult’s hand. You have to wonder at the state of our education system if a bloody kindergarten teacher doesn’t know such basics of civil society to pass them on to the next generation!
JOANNE (sighing): Anyway… so you never met Will Smith at any of your Hollywood parties in LA?
NICK: I don’t really go to too many Hollywood parties. I mean, they’ve got the good cocaine and all, but the people are so boring! Standing around and talking all day and pretending to be imaginary people, y’know… back in the day if you pretended to be Napoleon, we’d stick you in the nuthouse, but Reagan did away with all that, unfortunately.
JOANNE: I think he’s a music guy, too.
NICK: No, darling, Reagan was an actor. Oh, that was before your time.
JOANNE: I’m talking about Will Smith. He’s a music guy; did you ever meet him at one of the music biz parties?
NICK: What band does he sing with?
JOANNE: He doesn’t.
NICK: Oh no, darling, we don’t invite lesser sorts like keyboard players and drummers to our parties.
JOANNE: I think he’s a rapper.
NICK: A rapper? Oh, Lord, that’s even worse than being a drummer. It’s like being a drummer with your mouth!
JOANNE: Whatever. I thought it was nice that he stood up for his wife like that.
NICK (ignoring her): Mmm.
JOANNE: Would you ever do that?
NICK: Do what?
JOANNE: Slap a man who said something mean about me!
NICK: No, why?
JOANNE: Because he was being mean.
NICK: So?
JOANNE: So that’s not OK!
NICK: That’s nice, dear.
JOANNE: Hmph! You’re telling me that if we were at an awards show and some comedian said something awful about me, you wouldn’t rush up onstage and slap him for me?
NICK: Oh, I don’t know, darling. What if he had a good point? There’s all sorts of awful things one could say about you that are absolutely true, y’know.
JOANNE: It doesn’t matter! You’re supposed to fight for your wife’s honor!
NICK: Oh no, sweetheart. That went out the window with “no hymen, no diamond” and coming home to a clean house, a hot meal, and a smiling bride offering a man his slippers and a Scotch.
JOANNE: Hmph!
NICK: Don’t blame me, love, blame your bra-burning granny. You wanted equality? Well, then you can go running up onstage to slap the mean comedian your own damn self.
(Joanne growls).
NICK: Lord knows your right hook’s probably better than mine.
(Joanne reaches for Nick’s throat. He grabs her wrists to push her back and then turns around to get out of bed and start getting dressed.)
NICK: Y’know, love, I just realized I forgot something at the studio. Don’t wait up, I’ll just sleep in my office again. See you tomorrow!
(Joanne tackles Nick and gets on top of him as the closing credits show.