Inspired by a recent “artistic collaboration” video put out by his arch-rival, Nick’s made a “rather arty and innovative” new music video… but for some reason his manager doesn’t seem to approve.
Nick and Sally’s commentary:
“I don’t know why Suzy didn’t like the new music video, Sally. It was absolutely brilliant.”
“Er, yes, Mr. White.”
“What? Don’t you agree?”
“Um, well… it’s just that I don’t really understand modern art, Mr. White.”
“Oh, what’s to understand? You just make something vulgar and if anyone says they don’t like it, you call them an uncultured buffoon.”
“And if someone says they do like it?”
“Then you charge them $12 million for it, love.”
“Oh. I see.”
It’s that time of year again, when Nick and Joanne pretend like they’re actually gonna try to get along and communicate. For realsies this time. Just like every other year.
(Meanwhile their marriage counsellor is probably thinking he should have opened a surf shop in Stoner Beach instead of getting his degree… just like every other year…)
Nick and Sally’s commentary:
“Was it a productive counselling session, Mr. White?”
“Oh God, no, love. It was an hour of Mrs. White sitting around talking about herself and complaining… and if that wasn’t bad enough, at the end of it I had to pay the dork in the glasses $250.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Ugh… If I wanted to hear a vapid narcissist talk about themselves, I’d go hang out at the Rainbow Bar and Grill in Los Angeles where all my idiot rockstar friends hold court. At least then I’d be drunk.”
“Yes, Mr. White.”
“And there’d be loads of cocaine to pass the time til they shut up so I could talk about myself for the rest of the night.”
“Yes, Mr. White.”
“Bloody Sebastian Bach keeps talking about the time he was on the cover of Rolling Stone in gold leather pants. Pfft! Well who wasn’t on the cover of Rolling Stone in leather pants back in the day?”
“Yes, Mr. White.”
“Quit interrupting, Sally.”
“OK, Mr. White.”
It’s been weeks since anyone’s seen Nick around the studio or the strip club. Theories about his whereabouts abound but it falls to Atlanta to solve the mystery of whatever happened to her best client.
Nick and Sally’s commentary:
“Brilliant, Sally! I bet that bloody mick never suspected you were going to rub him down with poison ivy essential oil!”
“Poison ivy oil? Oh… um… [nervous laughter] right, Mr. White. He… um… he sure didn’t.”
“Good girl! Serves him right for getting his stupid autobiography finished and on the bestseller list before mine.”
“Er… yes, Mr. White.”
“Speaking of which, have you finished mine yet?”
“Oh, um… no, Mr. White. I’m still working on it.”
“Alright, have it done by Friday.”
“I’ll try my best, Mr. White.”
“By the way, love: do you have any of that poison ivy oil left?”
“Huh? Oh… um… no, Mr. White.”
“Where did you buy it?”
“Well… I… um… I don’t… um…”
“I think it would be jolly good fun to swap Mrs. White‘s massage oil with some of that for the next time she has a session with that personal trainer of hers.”
“Oh, well, I’ll see what I can whip up this afternoon, Mr. White.”
“Fantastic!”
Nick is thrilled with the “Ukrainian visit” video Pádraig helped him make, but will his manager and publicist approve?
Nick and Sally’s commentary:
“Mr. White, why is there a UFO in your visit to Ukraine?”
“Well, Sally, because that’s where UFOs come from.”
“Really? I thought they came from outer space.”
“Common misconception, dear. I used to think that too until Pádraig set me straight.”
“Oh…OK. Well, I guess as the director of the video, Pádraig knows best.”
“Yes, he knows so much more abut that sort of thing than I did. For example, did you know the IRA are sending lady mercenary units to fight in Ukraine?”
“No, I never heard that, Mr. White.”
“Me neither! See, Pádraig has all the insider information to make my Ukrainian war video so much more realistic than bloody Bono’s!”
“Er… yes, Mr. White.”
“I mean, sure we shot it all in the studio 2 live room, but I felt like I was really there on the front lines. I’m hoping from now on hot young bimbos will fall to their knees to thank me for my service. And then offer me their services.”
This week Nick is busy on location (in his studio) filming his visit to Ukraine with the help of his pal Pádraig, who’s all too happy to lend his artistic vision to ensuring the video is a real hit.
Nick and Sally’s commentary:
“My God, Sally, the savagery I have suffered through in order to further my art…”
“Yes, Mr. White, you were very brave.”
“Pádraig said he thinks we might win an Irish Oscar for my Ukraine video, but I think we have a real shot of winning a real Oscar instead.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful, Mr. White!”
“Be sure to update my Wikipedia the second those nominations are announced, love.”
“Yes, Mr. White.”
“And don’t forget the Nobel Peace Prize! I hear when you win one of those, they give you a whole crate of free dynamite.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes, it’s all the same company. I can’t wait to test it out on Richard’s BMW… also that old hag Mrs. Collins down the block from me who’s always bitching that my car stereo is too loud. Well, she can kiss that ugly RV of hers ker-ploom when I get my Nobel Peace dynamite!”
Spurred on by his manager’s demands for more publicity, Nick has decided to film a video about the war in the Ukraine, complete with Ukrainian beauties.
And he’s not going to let an actual Ukrainian’s opinions get in the way of his vision.
Nick and Sally’s commentary:
“That was such a fun day at the audition, wasn’t it, Sally?”
“I suppose so, Mr. White.”
“Except for bloody Dickhead showing up and chasing that one blonde away. That was rather unfortunate.”
“Yes, Mr. White.”
“Can’t wait til we shoot this video. Especially the mud wrestling scene… hey, Sally, how would you like to throw on a bikini and rehearse that mud wrestling scene with me later?”
“Oh, um… well…”
“Hmmm… What if I break out the tequila first?”
“Well, maybe.”
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.”
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.”
In the second of our interviews introducing the cast, music journalist Ginger Babczak sits down with Pádraig Ó Seachnasaigh, the DJ at Lucky Luigi’s Lingerie Lounge, which is next door to Nick White’s recording studio and thus the perfect hangout for the merry band of “eejits” from there.
Pádraig seems like a rather friendly bloke… at first… well, depending on your pedigree… anyway, he spills some tea about Nick et al.
Nick and Sally’s commentary:
“Sally, what does ‘gowl’ mean?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Mr. White. I think it must be Irish for ‘friend.'”
“Ah, yes, that makes sense. But then what did Pádraig mean when he said it was ‘great craic’ to watch me fuck up?”
“Well, he must have meant that it makes him very sad.”
“I’ll never understand why the Irish have to have their own weird slang for everything. Just speak bloody English like we taught you lot! It’s like they think they have their own country and culture or something!”
“Oh, Mr. White, I don’t think you should say such things to Pádraig. You know how upset he gets.”
“Some people just can’t handle the truth, Sally.”
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.”