Tag: flight of the conchords

Saturday. We open on Murray driving the boys to a disco club. Why? Nobody’s saying. But we are all loving it. Except for Jemaine, who’d rather go watch a video, and Bret, who would prefer “a sleep,” and thus they are both crouching down in the backseat and looking horrified when Murray pulls up to the curb and drops them off with Dave. Dave isn’t so wild about it, either, especially when the Conchords crowd him on the dance floor. To wit: “You guys are dorkin’ up my vibe with all the dicks. We need to spread the dicks out a little bit, create some lady space.” Maybe the two best lines ever written, and we haven’t even wrapped up the credits yet.
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We should start by rechristening this one “I love Jemaine,” because really, I love Jemaine. And never more so than when something is smacking him in the face. We are both funny that way. Bret, on the other hand, is funny in the way that he’s willing to insult not five but seven famed rap artists in the course of an approximately 26-second number during yet another gig at the local library. (A number that also includes an approximately 1.5-second bass solo by Jemaine and is notable for having only one lyric—“______ is not very good”—and a single variation on that lyric: “But the Rhymenoceros is very, very good.”)

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In the world of the Conchords, every decision has its consequences and every action carries its weight in impending disaster, so in the whole grand, daisy-chain scheme of things, it’s not only plausible but inevitable that the purchase of a nondescript tea cup for the princely sum of $2.79 would be what finally leads one of them to prostitution and both of them to jail.
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I did a little scientific research with myself last night, and found that the absolute right way to end a weekend that started with a new and deeply disturbing episode of Battlestar Galactica is to sit down with a couple of screwballs on Flight of the Conchords. Actually let’s raise that “couple” to “three,” because without ol’ Ginger Balls, at least half the screws would be missing. In other news, Bret still looks like mama’s little lost bear cub and Jemaine, while sexy as all hell, still carries himself like Frankenstein. I’m sorry, but it’s true. And I’m sorry again, but all the riches of this show are in the details, so this ended up as more of a recap than a review. What can I say? Let’s not worry about semantics and also, life is hard.

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