One of God's children

"Listen, Mitchell..."

"What is it?"

"It's not that I don't respect this whole Shane McGowan, Dylan Moran thing you're trying on-- you've got sick in your hair, by the way -- but it's, well, you know it's spring break, don't you think it's time for a bit more-- action?"

"Leave me alone, George."

"I'm just saying you've been here for two full days now and I've been doing all the shopping and-- have you ever been in an American supermarket, Mitchell? It's like a freeze-dried prison for thousands upon thousands of bad calories and screaming children. It might be good if you, you know..."

"What, George?"

"...Get out a bit."

"I'm not fit to go out."

"No, not without a shower... and maybe a touch of deodorant-- anyway, my point is, now that we're getting at it--"

"Keep on getting, George."

"My point is, I'm tired of this. I've decided I'm tired of this, and you're tired of this, so maybe all of this is a sign to make some kind of change. A change, yes, a change will do us good."

"George. That point you were rambling on about...?"

"Oh. Right. I want to move back to Bristol."

"...What?"

"Seriously, this place isn't in the right mind, and it's obviously not safe-- they, they accost you at the bus stop, Mitchell. They accost you, and they ask you, 'are you having trouble reading the map? Do you need any help? Here, take some money for the bus, you can't possibly--'. My point is, Americans have no sense of personal space. Or junk food. Actually, I was at this Pottery Barn, and--"

"Fine."

"--it was really, and I mean really--"

"George, I said fine."

"Fine?"

"We'll move back to Bristol. Just leave me alone."

"...I'll go clean up your empty beer bottles then, shall I? God, you smell like a public toilet..."

[[ establishy ]]

"No, Mitchell. I have to draw the line somewhere, and this is it! Don't take me wrong, I'm glad you're over for the holidays, it's good to have some company, but, but this--"

"Oh, come on. It's cosy. It's warm. It's Christmas! The more the merrier. Have a bit of spirit, George."

"Have-- Mitchell, these are Americans. You've invited them into our-- my-- this home, they must be going insane looking for where you're keeping the guns to massacre them--"

"It'll be fine. It's just carollers! They're just here to warm up, share a few stories. You should talk to Eve. She collects egg cups."

"I-- Egg cups? Rea-- I mean, no! No, Mitchell! They need... to go. Warm up in their own homes locked... in front of the fireplace, eating hamburgers and watching meta for Charlie Brown like ordinary Americans. That's the normal standard. See this? This is not normal. This is... This is--"

"Yeah. Let me know when you figure it out. Now I'm going to nip down to the shop and get some hot cocoa, d'you need anything--?"

"MITCHELL!"

"Don't forget to open the door if there's more of them!"

"And what if the police shows up?!"

"Bye, George."

[[ mostly establishy, but open if you want to call Mitchell ]]