Written by Richard Day and Mitchell Hurwitz.
George, Sr.: (Whispers.) and whisper something in your ear. Oh. White suit, that’s extra.
Michael: Boy, that’s an awful lot of money for the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard.
George, Sr.: The juries love him.
Michael: That’s just it, Dad. There won’t be a jury because we are pleading guilty.
George, Sr.: I am not guil... All right, I didn’t want to tell you this. Are you ready for the bombshell?
Michael: Andy Griffith wasn’t the bombshell?
George, Sr.: I’m a patsy. I was set up. By the Brits.
George, Sr.: A group of British builders operating outside The O.C...
Michael: Don’t call it that.
George, Sr.: ...contacted me for a partnership to build homes overseas. I did not know they meant Iraq.
Michael: We’ve got a picture of you with Saddam Hussein.
George, Sr.: I thought that was the guy who played the Soup Nazi.
Michael: Come on.
George, Sr.: I told him how much I liked his work. Anyway, the Brits used that picture to blackmail me.
George, Sr.: A picture like that, Michael, can end your career.
Michael: Not in every case.
George, Sr.: These are dangerous people, Michael. They’ll do whatever it takes to get inside this family and just bring us down.
Michael: British people?
George, Sr.: Oh, they’re polite and the men all sound gay, but they will rip out your heart. And their breath...
Michael: And you want to go after these people?
George, Sr.: Well, yes, it takes a little courage, Michael. I know that’s not your strongest suit. You’re even scared to ask a girl out on a date.
Michael: What? Why does everybody think that I’m scared of girls?
George, Sr.: Because you’re a chicken. You’re a chicken! Coo-coo ca-cha! Coo-coo ca-cha!
Michael: What are you doing?
Lucille: Michael and women?! A-koodle-doodle doo!
George, Sr.: Coo-coo ca-cha!
Lindsay: That’s what I was just telling him. Cha! Cha!
George, Sr.: Coo-coo ca-cha!
Lucille: Koodle-doodle!
Michael: Look, I haven’t found the right girl. When I do, I will ask her out. Has anyone in this family ever even seen a chicken?
G.O.B.: Wait, wait, wait! I got the perfect thing!
Michael: That’s enough, okay? I will give it one day, all right? I’ll see if there’s any evidence of these nefarious Brits, but I’m warning you, if I can’t, we’re pleading guilty, and you’re either going back to jail or if the judge shows absolutely no mercy at all, you’ll be staying here with my mother.
G.O.B.: Coka-coh! Coka-coh! Coka-coh! Oh, come on!
Michael: There’s no satellite radio, but there’s a banjo in the closet. And watch out for live-ins. You will get some live-ins.
Narrator: Michael was investigating his father’s case in the English section of Orange County.
Voices: Lanes reverse, mate! You’re driving on the wrong side, you blooming idiot!
Michael: I need to check the records for any British-owned building businesses that would’ve applied for a license about ten years ago.
Ian: Oh, I’m so sorry. You’ll need a UK passport to check those files. They’re for British eyes only.
