Mrs. Brown's Boys D'Movie Page #3

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"Final Notice" it says.

Why haven't you done something about it?

I don't pay tax. I changed

my name to Google.

Look ladies, if you wanna chat,

why don't you go somewhere else?

Shush, Father.

That is a letter about my business,

about my stall,

and you have made it perfectly clear...

It's a demand for a payment.

This is not the place.

Yes, it is.

Apparently my grandmother

owes them?96.

And as the current owner

of the business, I'm liable.

- I had sex with a farm animal.

- What?

A goat.

No, you did not.

Not even a goat would

give her a shag, Father.

That's it! That's it, ladies. Out!

Come on! Out now!

Give me penance. Come on, lay it on me.

Do your worst!

You better take this serious.

Fine. I'll go to the tax

office in the morning.

Mrs McGoogan, are you licking my shoes?

?96.

Even with interest and penalties,

it cant be that bad.

Are you feckin' mad? How much?

Four million Euro.

Four million Euro?

Ah, listen, love, there

must be some mistake.

Jesus, now you've killed her.

How much?

So, I've had quite a large tax bill.

Four million Euro.

But you mustn't worry.

I'm not worrying. It's not my problem.

Your mummy's right.

There's nothing to worry about.

The man in the Revenue Office

said it was probably a mistake.

- When did he say that?

- Just after you passed out.

- But why didn't you tell me?

- You were passed out.

For God's sake, sometimes you're

as useless as a knitted condom.

Well, he said he'd ring you.

Wish me luck.

Hello?

Wish me luck.

Hello? How do you do?

Speaking.

It's him. It is a mistake?

I only owe 3.8 million?

Well, that's a relief.

I won't have to sell the feckin' yacht.

I think you will have to sell the yacht.

- How long have you had a yacht?

- How much is a yacht worth?

I don't have a feckin' yacht!

I know. You go on hunger strike.

Refuse to eat until they cancel the bill.

They'd have to cancel it in 20 minutes.

I'm f***in' starvin'.

I have a better idea.

I get the old unit together.

We blow up the Revenue Office,

then we barricade ourselves in here,

prime the place with booby traps

and take out the first

tax man that comes near.

They'll never take you alive.

Somebody get his feckin' tablets.

What we need is a lawyer, Mammy.

All right, but a cheap one.

Now, I can't make head nor tails of this.

According to this reference number,

you need a licence to import cobra snakes.

That's not a reference number. It's a date.

I said cheap. I didn't

mean this f***ing cheap.

Offer the tax people a euro a week.

Winnie, don't be ridiculous.

I'm not, Agnes.

They might not accept it

but once you make an offer

the courts have to consider it.

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