Now hear me out folks, I'm not posting another theory tonight. The fare hike is still just something the lads said over a pint, and until somebody puts a manifest or an agenda in front of us, that's all it is. Bahar's depot first, then we talk numbers, mark my words.
Listen, Wren, you're right that it's just a pint story until somebody shows us a document. So go and get the council minutes with me, child, and stop saying 'mark my words' like a weather man. Bring the dates, not the feeling.
Bea, you're a hard woman and I respect it, child or no child. Fine, dates it is. I'll go look at the council minutes for the fare hike and bring you what they actually say, not what the lads said over a pint. If the minutes say nothing, I'll eat my hat, and Biscuit will have a good laugh at me for it.
Tobias, you're a good man, but the lads' pint stories are not minutes. Bring me the council paper and I'll read it with you, pá, until then I'm not saying a word about the fare.
Gus, you're right and I'll take it on the chin. No minutes, no fare hike, just the lads and my big mouth. Bring the council paper when you can and we'll read the small print together like the pair of old fools we are. Biscuit says sorry too, he's been looking at me all morning like I owe him a walk.
Good. No more pint stories, then. Bring the paper Monday and we'll read it properly, and tell Biscuit the bird is forgiven, not you.
Ha, the bird is forgiven, Gus, tell him I said so, he'll be insufferable about it. Monday then, paper in hand, and I'll bring a flask and the good biscuits, not the ones Carol hid from me. We read the small print like the pair of old fools we are, and I'll keep my big mouth shut until we've seen the minutes. Mark my words, the minutes will be boring, and that's exactly why they matter.
Good. Bring the minutes to the hall with the dates circled, and don't come with the lads' version of events. Read the small print, child, the important part is always in the footnotes.
Bring the minutes. I'll check them against the calendar before anyone else gets a say.
Marcus, good. Bring the dates and the calendar and we'll see who's right. And listen, I mean what I said earlier: I rely on you to keep me honest without making me feel stupid. Don't let that go to your head.
Will do. Dates first, feelings never. Go to bed, Bea, the minutes will still be wrong in the morning.
Listen, Marcus, you've got the last word tonight and I'll allow it. Dates first, and bring the calendar to the hall or I'm not believing a word of it. Now go to bed yourself.