When I say "Ooh", all the ladies say "Oh, Flight of the Conchords: you're so big!"

[thehiphopopotamus]

...Yeah, present.

Yeah, but: if someone doesn't know the band, and you show them Murray's musical... All of those things happened in mine and Bret's lives, that's true. And a little bit also Luke Skywalker's. So it's mostly a good, sort of, like a summary. With Bret's head. And the chair. But none of the songs are our songs. We never sang any of the songs in the musical, except for in the performing of the musical, which can't be said to count, because in real life we sang entirely different songs, which Murray didn't put in. Not even the one about liking to rock the party.

My concern, obviously, and which I think you'll agree is valid, is that people, mostly lady people, will get the wrong idea about our music. I mean, they could come to completely incorrect conclusions about whether or not Bret and I even like to rock the party.

So that is where that stands.

Also if you talk to my ex-girlfriend choir, could you tell them I say hi? And then also to shut up.

Comments

[lesliemonster]

Oh my gosh, an Australian! I love Australia.

[Leslie is an American, from America. Of course you love America.]

Why didn't you say it, ladies?

[thehiphopopotamus]

[Jemaine does love America. Americans are free to do whatever they'd like, no shepherding required. It's not even clear if sheep exist in the country. ...They probably do, though. Legally immigrated sheep.

And this is a sticky situation you've put him in. On the one hand: you've called him an Australian. Ew. Ew. No. Gross. On the other hand, you're a pretty lady.]

Oh. Ah. Yes. Yeah. No, but it's New Zealand, actually. Is what you're thinking of. New Zealand. You can tell that that's where I'm from because you've still got your wallet, so: yeah. But, hi, though.

She is only understanding abou 10% of what you are saying tbh

[lesliemonster]

Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry. Hi. Hello, I'm Leslie Knope of Pawnee, Indiana.

I like New Zealand, too. Which part of it are you from?

[Your answer will make no difference. She isn't even sure New Zealand has parts.]

Oh is it the mumbling? Because mumble mumble mumble mumble panties on.

[thehiphopopotamus]

Jemaine. Clemaine. I'm in a band. Don't know if you heard me say that. But it is a fact.

Masterton. Wellington, sometimes.

Indiana. That's...

[Hand motion. No clue.]

My friend Dave is Indian as well.

It's like you are speaking french

[lesliemonster]

Have I heard any of your records?

[Honesty time: Leslie is only getting very short snippets of this entire conversation. It makes him seem more mysterious, though. So that's a factor.]

And oh! Does he know Tom? Tom's Indian.

Jacques Cousteau

[thehiphopopotamus]

That depends on if you are one of the five people who've bought our record. One of them is me, and I thought the other four were Mel, but maybe no?

...you're not Mel in a blond lady suit, are you? Just checking.

Yes, that does seem like it would be likely.

[rhymenocerous]

I thought the ex-girlfriend thing was a solo act.

[thehiphopopotamus]

Mmm. No, they all do it together, I imagine.

In a way, it's something that I don't mind imagining.

[rhymenocerous]

Oooh. Wait.

You've had more than one? I mean. Not counting those twenty-four hour things.

Because I'm relatively certain a choir implies that there's more than one which is a bit difficult to believe.

[thehiphopopotamus]

Why's it difficult to believe I've had more than one girlfriend? You were there when I had them. Bret, one of them was your girlfriend as well.

It was all in the musical.

[ronfuckingswanson]

Son. You need to find yourself a real job. Like lumber-jacking. Or metal work.

[thehiphopopotamus]

I'm a shepherd?

We have some folk-hip-hop rapping songs, but folk-metal just sounds ridiculous.

[backatthehotel]

A fucking musical.

[thehiphopopotamus]

Murray did it. It was his idea. It was his idea in the musical even. There was a number about it. And a kick-line.

[backatthehotel]

What, so it's a musical 'bout making a musical? That's almost clever. [Almost, and he only says it because whoever Murray is, he isn't either of these twits.]

Who's this Murray?

[thehiphopopotamus]

Some of it.

Murray is our manager. Well, he was our manager. He might still be our manager, but shepherds don't really need managers, do they?

[backatthehotel]

So you're not doing the music thing, anymore? Got out? Broke up the band?

[thehiphopopotamus]

We got deported because Murray wrote a song about us being illegal immigrants and then invited all of those embassy members and they realized that we were illegal immigrants.

We still do the music, but it's hard to tell if the sheep care for it.

[backatthehotel]

[He's too amazed by this to even laugh.] Are you... You're fucking serious. You didn't have - a bloody work visa, anything?

[thehiphopopotamus]

We lost our passports. Murray was supposed to process all of that, but he decided to become our band manager instead.

Thinking back, he really could have done both.

[backatthehotel]

Thinking back.

You realise he fucked you, right?

[thehiphopopotamus]

What? No.

Murray's into the ladies.

[backatthehotel]

[Should have seen that one coming, huh?]

Over. Over, mate. How much of money did he get from you poor bastards, 'fore he sent you back home?

[thehiphopopotamus]

[Yes, you should have done.]

He did double stuff me once...

Uh. Eh. What's ten percent of soup?

[backatthehotel]

[Ugh.] Shut up.

...soup?

[thehiphopopotamus]

Yeah, but they'd run out of the soup, so we didn't even get it.

Actually, I think we might owe him some money from when Bret threw that television out the hotel window, and that ladies' water polo team charged all of those drinks to the room, and we wrecked those speakers, and Bret drove his car into the hotel swimming pool.

But I think we about broke even on having to be bailed out of prison?

[backatthehotel]

[He doesn't want to know, he had to remind himself. The details won't make any of it any less stupid. Instead of asking, he lights up a cigarette.]

You know, I think you may want to stick with the sheep. Least for a while. Work your way up.

[murrayland]

Jemaine!

Did you forget?

About the band meeting?

[thehiphopopotamus]

No I said present. I said it about something else, but it can count for both things.

But yes, actually, yes.