Bon Cop, Bad Cop

- Hey, Ron,

it's Patrick from Montreal.

- Patrick, you're on the air.

What can I do for you, buddy?

- I heard this rumour

that the Toronto team

might be sold to Houston!

- That... that rumour, not!

- Listen, I know

it's 100% accurate information.

It comes directly out of the mouth

of my brother-in-law.

- Don't give me the brother-in-law,

don't give me the cousin!

The taxi driver, the bartender,

Uncle Mike, my brother-in-law.

Your brother, your cousin...

Who cares about the bullshit?

The real rumour is,

a bloody team from Canada

will be sold to the U.S.

(buzzing)

But it's not Vancouver, Calgary,

Deadmonton, Taranna, Montreal.

- Yeah, well, you know, Ron,

since the lockout

things have been going...

- Lockout? What lockout?

What's the problem with the lockout?

(buzzing)

- You know, Mr. Buttman,

with all that cheap American crap

like cheerleaders and mascots and...

- Yeah, you're right about that.

Don't hate the cheerleaders,

but I can't stand the mascots.

Can't stand the mascots,

with the tail and the frou-frou.

Can't stand the mascots!

You want to know what else?

- What?

- In the end, who cares?

Because of the lockout,

we've got ourselves a final

between Montreal and Toronto.

Yahoo! So don't believe the rumours

a Canadian team is moving south.

(man coughing)

But it's the end!

The beginning of the end.

Finito, kaput, the end.

Thanks a lot. Next caller.

- What's going on here?

What is this?

Why am I tied up?

What am I doing here?

What did I do?

- That's the problem, Ben.

You didn't do anything.

- You know I tried to help.

You know that, right?

Right?

You know...

I didn't want to drop you...

Let me go, we'll work things out.

Untie me!

Let's help each other, eh?

You were like a brother to me!

- Shhh-shhh-shhh...

- Ah!

What are you doing?

Where are you?

- Shhh-shhh-shhh...

The game's on.

- Ah!

...a new highpoint

in Canadian hockey history.

The Holt Cup final between the Toronto

Loyalists and the Montreal Patriotes.

The referee is ready to drop the puck.

And the game is on!

(radio):
Toronto's never

looked sharper,

the European refs have never

looked duller! Which leaves Montreal.

Remember when Montreal

had Frenchies that could score?

Well, those days are long gone.

- Well, thanks, Tom,

for your usual amazing insights

into our national psyche.

Frenchies that can score, eh?

Europeans?

What a country this is

on a fine day in May!

- Hey, bud! Morning!

- Ahem.

No food.

- Where you going?

- Back to my room.

- You're not hungry?

I got some great new cereal.

- I'm not in the mood for shredded

cardboard right now, thanks.

- So, Jonathan, how was last night?

The DJ thing.

- It was good.

- Yeah? You had fun?

- Uh-huh.

- Morning, boys!

- I've got this thing at work.

It may be overnight,

so Auntie Iris is here, okay?

- Hey, hey!

- Hey!

- But I'm hoping

that won't last too much longer.

I'm hoping to be a DJ man myself,

you know?

- What's that?

- DJ man!

(imitating a turntable sound)

- Oh, God...

- Desk job, get it?

Desk job? Heh!

- Yeah...

- Jay, come on, where you going?

Tell me something good,

please, after that.

- Okay, last night I was spinning.

- Yeah?

- Everyone was going crazy!

People were on the tables!

- Hell, yeah, they were.

- So the next guy went up after me,

but no one really liked him,

so they called me back,

'cause they wanted me.

- Nice. The girls

must've been all over you.

- Uh, yeah.

There was a redheaded girl...

- A redheaded girl?

- Yeah...

- Just asking.

- You know what?

Jay, let's go grab some breakfast.

Outta here, you know?

Me and you,

shoot the sh*t.

- Okay.

- Give me the juicy details...

Get your stuff.

- See ya!

How do you do that?

I can't get a full sentence

out of him.

- Come on, brother.

He's 15.

You're his dad.

- I suppose so.

- It's 22 degrees in Montreal...

Hey, did you see last night's game?

Toronto isn't giving up,

so, hey, Patriotes,

show us your stuff

and bring home the Cup.

- Oh... You're here. Wow.

Aren't you sweet.

- Good morning...

to all of you.

- Jerk.

- Daddy!

- Hi, sweetie.

- Did a bad guy do that to you?

- Daddy met someone even more

hard-headed than Mommy.

- You're funny.

Good morning, sweetie.

Did you sleep well?

- Oh, French toast!

Thank you, Daddy!

- My pleasure.

- Daddy, I have something

to ask you.

- Ah, okay.

What's up?

- Can I get my bellybutton pierced?

(Coughing)

- Excuse me?

I want to pierce my bellybutton.

- What did Mommy say?

- She didn't even try with me.

- Let me think about it

and we'll talk later.

- You're not cool.

- Would you please go upstairs

to my place and get some milk?

- I told my friends

you were the coolest father.

- Of course!

- Your cool thing

is not going to work.

Go get the milk, please.

Thank you.

- You can get your face sown up

once a week

but I can't get my bellybutton pierced!

- I didn't say no,

I said your mother

and I will talk about it

and then she'll tell me

what we've decided.

- You're not funny.

- Now go get the milk

or I personally

will pierce your navel.

(Gabrielle laughing)

Go on.

- Okay, okay.

- Bellybutton piercing...

What's wrong?

- Nothing. It's just that

if you could be like that

for more than 10 minutes at a time,

we might still be married.

- Come on...

Could be worse.

Some couples

don't even get 10 minutes.

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