“Torchwood” in Ten Minutes “Miracle Day” Episode 104: A Baby (And a Child Molester) Shall Lead Them

 
 

HOUSE OF THE HALF-NAKED WELSHMAN

Gwen: Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad you called! It’s, um, terrible here. There’s no, er, sunlight or running water or … cheer. Yes, that’s it. No cheer. The whole place is surrounded by Dementor’s. Bloody Azkaban, I’m telling you.

Rhys: I’m pretty sure I hear bikini-clad women applying sunscreen to one another and frolicking.

Gwen: Nope, just gloom and misery and — EXPECTO PATRONUM! See? So anyway, listen, you’ve got to get my dad out of the hospital before he’s infected with something worse than a a heart attack.

Rhys: You can count on me.

Gwen: I know. But I’ve got to go. Some paparazzi-looking fool is across the street taking photos of me and shaking up one of those Magic Alien 8-Balls.

VENICE BEACH TRIANGLE

Paparazzi-looking fool: Torchwood located. Boom.

 

A STUDY OF PROVINCIAL LIFE

Gwen: Sorry, that was my pookie bear on the phone. Er, I mean Rhys.

Esther: Don’t apologize. We all have people we love in our lives.

Rex: Not me!

Captain Jack: A man’s past is a still quivering part of himself, bringing shudders and bitter flavors and the tinglings of a merited shame.

Rex: What?

Captain Jack: Quoting George Eliot is one of the sexy things I’m doing today.

Rex: Can we just talk about how we’re going to catch the bad guys?

Captain Jack: Well, we don’t know who the bad guys are, really, so we’re going to follow Oswald Danes around because he seems to be that tiny speck very close to our vision, blotting out the glory of the world.

Rex: Is that — are you still quoting that guy, George Eliot?

Captain Jack: That guy was a girl. And yes. If Dead Isn’t Really Dead, you should read a book when we’re done here.

GENESIS, EXODUS, LEVITICUS

Oswald Danes: [Is in his hotel room, acting like Tom Hanks after he finally made it off that island.]

Jilly Kitzinger: Now that you need me as much as I need you, I am oddly repulsed by your face.

Oswald Danes: It’s not the fact that I am a convicted pedophile rapist?

Jilly Kitzinger: No, it’s the fact that I’m all about the chase, and you’re — oh, hey now, who’s this nutbag on my TV, shimmering with the kind of indignant ecstasy that only comes from being spoken to by some The Lord himself?

Oswald Danes: Stop looking at her! Look at me! She’s just Tea Party bananas; I’m fully Dateline Special Report bananas! And speaking of Dateline, I did some trolling around on the Internet last night in places I wasn’t supposed to be, and I think PhiCorp is ruled by The Silence.

Ellis Hartley: The only giver of true eternal life is Jesus. Or his brother in Capitalisn, Ronald Reagan. These dead people who are walking around are dead, OK? And soon enough, they’ll be too dead to walk like normal days. Because …

 

… DEAD IS DEAD, I SAID

Rex: Man, that lady on TV is bumming me out. Better go visit my homeless, alcoholic, drug-peddling dad so I can feel better.

Rex’s Dad: Well, hey there, You cheap, lying, no good, rotten, floor-flushing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, over-stuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, d–kless, hopeless, heartless, fatass, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spineless, worm-headed sack of monkey s–t!

Rex: And that’s the chip on my shoulder.

MISSION PHARMACEUTICAL

Esther: Standard spy business, you guys. We’ve got to break into PhiCorp and steal their server by replacing it with another server, but it’s bio-metrically protected, so we’re going to need a retina scan, a thumbprint, and some voice duplication.

Rex: Cool, I just installed that app on my iPhone.

Gwen: DON’T TURN ON YOUR IPHONE! THE ALIENS WILL USE GPS TO BLOW US ALL TO SMITHEREEENS! Jack and I will act like a couple.

A COUPLE OF WHAT?

PhiCorp Boss: Here I am, walking in the park, with my wife, my kid, and my biometric componentry.

Gwen: Oh, God, how do I do an American accent?

Jack: Just spit out the words. Don’t roll them around in your mouth and chew on them and pronounce every single letter.

Gwen: Isss thayat yur beeeby? Lk at ths camra phne and gev ma yur thoom prnt, diggity bomb.

Jack: What the f–k was that? Parseltongue?

Gwen: What a terrible language that is to speak! My mouth hurts and my insides are squirming with shame!

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