I'm here. Tell them to let me in!
- There you are. - Here I am.
You have things to do, lady. This country does not run itself.
Does it not?
Orlo is I know not where, but I have your daily agenda.
- You? - Me.
I'm ignoring your mood in the hope that you'll snap out of it.
It is not a mood.
It is a dawning realization that is too horrible to accept.
Shit happens. You tried something. It fucked up.
You didn't fail.
No. They did.
The court, my team, the serfs, everyone.
This is Russia.
I finally understand what that means.
It is a setback is all. Do not lose faith in yourself.
It is not me I have lost faith in.
It is Russia, the people.
Also, someone keeps shooting at me.
That's not good.
We best get inside and start the day.
- I will not show fear. - So don't show it but get inside anyway.
They did not want Peter, but perhaps that did not mean they wanted me.
- And change seems impossible. - They can change.
Look at me. I have a daily agenda, empathy for serfs.
You are a singular individual.
You helped me be one.
You have changed me. You will change millions.
Nice of you to say.
Now stop, as it is an agitating subject.
All right. What's the agenda?
Science competition.
International scientists are arriving. See, you almost smiled.
This is the kind of boring shit that you love.
- Enchanting chat. Thank you. - And if Russia wins, huzzah!
You have brought us international acclaim. The court will love that.
They have short memories. The serfs are back at work.
- Everything is as it was. - All normal.
All fucked up as usual.
THE GREAT
STAPLER
He's been ignoring you for a long time. I don't think he's going to...
It is all right.
Hello, Grigor.
What are you...
- I have been fucking knocking... - I know.
It is comical how agitated you are.
Dimitri Kang, do you see him? This is... What do you call?
- Agitation of the spirit. - Exactly.
I'm hungry. We've been fasting. I haven't eaten for three days.
I mean, a pheasant, some potatoes and a lemon posset but almost nothing.
- He has been in here. - I needed a something.
Instinctively I knew what it was. Well, of course I did. Right, Dimitri?
Your heart told you where to go for what it needed.
And now my stomach tells me to go in the breakfast room.
Can we talk about what happened?
Whatever you wish. Although it is past so is of no matter.
- That's kung fu thinking. - Thing is, I... I don't get it.
You had her. Court mad at her. Chaos. You have a gun. She's...
If you'd have seen her, her beautiful face crumpled with grief.
- This love is going to fucking end us. - Or begin us.
What does that mean?
Melon. Yum. Soothe yourself, Grigor.
You choked in the moment. I understand. Okay, she cried.
Hard when they cry. George would cry and I would go to pieces.
Dimitri Kang has led me through a long, dark night of the soul,
and I have realized something.
I don't want it. And that has given me a peace...
- What the fuck are you talking about? - Stop interrupting!
I wanted that fig slathered in goat's cheese
and now it's on your face and the floor. Fuck.
- And now I'm not serene. - I speak from love.
Listen from it instead! Get me the fig. I'll eat it anyway.
At the risk of having a roast squab shoved up my arse,
let me pose a question. How will you ever take this place from her
if she can merely crumple her face and squirt a few tears...
Who am I, Grigor?
The emperor of Russia, chosen by God and line.
No. I'm just a man.
Two legs, one head.
I like to hunt and eat and jape and have sex, and soon, play with Paul.
The thing is, Grigor, I not only don't want it, I don't know that I ever did.
I was just born to it. That's all.
Like that stable boy and his father both have those warts
that look like an elephant's penis. He was born to that.
He cannot get rid of his inheritance, but I can mine.
- I don't want to be emperor. - Where does that leave us?
Here. Just two men, four arms, two heads, three melons.
It leaves us trapped.
It leaves us fucked!
I know you. You're a fucking emperor! You want this.
You made a mistake and were selfless for a moment.
Trust me, that is an aberration, not a fucking character trait.
You need to shut up.
You want to fuck her a lot! That is all that's going on here.
I'm not even upset with you.
- What is it? - It is a stapler.
What's it do?
There is a tube and a slide
where individual pieces of metal are pushed forward
and then punched into the paper.
And voila.
They are held fast.
Right. And that's it?
Worst part of my job is when a baby gets stuck inside a woman
and I have to go in, sometimes elbow deep,
turn the head and shoulders, and pull it out.
Jesus, I did not know this.
- And as I'm not a fucking vet... - Never having children. Never.
hence, the mother of invention.
I have invented the ceps.
In labor.
Yeah.
So much of a woman's life is wasted being tied into and out of our dresses.
As I tell my girls, this time could be spent reading, writing, painting.
Indeed.
It is merely two strips of material treated with tree sap
that runs the length of the garment.
And off, please.
It is brilliant, Katya Velcra.
But let me consider the unseen ramifications.
And many rapes.
I call it...
The Exultation.
Sounds promising.
It is to be four stories high, 70 feet wide.
One climbs this ladder to the cart. It seats four men.
- Or women. - Yes.
Women should ride it too... as well as children.
Wonderful.
Now, gravity and the parabolic form give us the momentum
for an upward push and then...
- How do they not die? - They do.
That is the point of The Exultation.
The journey ends in the inescapable conclusion: death.
What?
The old, the infirm, terminally ill, the suicidal, the bored
have one final moment of sky and sun before crashing to their death.
We shall go with the stapler.
Bravo! We've embossed it here.
Take "The Great" part off it.
Congratulations.
Thank you for being kind that day, even though you probably came to kill me.
Just overthrow you really. Imprison you until you saw reason.
Then live happily ever after with Paul, and a lot of picnicking and hunting.
- But then you did not. - I did not.
I had an epiphany.
I wanted your happiness more than my own.
And honestly, I don't want to be emperor.
- You don't? - That is what has stunned me.
I understand something for the first time.
God chose me, my parents chose it for me,
but I never chose it.
And suddenly when I could, I didn't.
Indeed.
Love has done a strange thing to me.
I wonder if you cut a man who has loved fiercely,
you will see a different shaped heart from a man who has not.
Maybe that should be our science entry.
How is our science entry?
It attaches papers to each other.
Sounds embarrassing.
- Can I tell you something? - Anything.
- I fear perhaps I cannot change Russia. - Russia...
It is an old sow stuck in the mud and mostly happily so.
But if anyone can, you can.
- But maybe no one can. - It has been said. Shall I cheer you?
My tongue is numb from this morning's deer pastrami in red peppercorns,
so I will have to rely on technique rather than taste and feel, but...
let us have at your button.
Sorry, no. I am too low even for that.
- Bleak spirits indeed. - Indeed.
Maybe I could help you with the science thing.
- I don't think so. - You forget I am a man of science.
Remember? The dog and the parachute?
Indelibly printed on my brain.
- It was a memorable day. - Exactly.
So, with my considerable intelligence thus focused on solving your problem,
I'm sure some brilliant invention will come to me.
I would actually be fascinated to see what you came up with.
Sounds like a challenge.
- If you like. - I do like.
I will surprise you.
Somehow you have inexplicably cheered me.
Time's up!
Dear Catherine.
I have added some plantains to the raw fish to help with digestion,
as the further along you go, that stomach can be acidic.
I do have a hollow, acidic feeling actually.
- Well, plantains. - I don't think plantains can fix it.
- You may go. I am not in the mood. - In a mood, but not the mood.
- You are angry. - No.
- Sulking? - Bewildered.
I have an optimism of people, you in particular.
The men abandoning me in some ways does not surprise me.
- But you. - Did I abandon you?
You're alive and still empress.
Had I actually abandoned you, you'd be in six pieces scattered across the forest,
and your head the most prized souvenir in Russia.
It is a pretty head. Maybe we should focus on that.
Also, there is much upside. Svenska is dead. That's good.
You could've trusted me. My instinct.
Instead, you were ready to cut me loose. I saw it.
And what would have happened if I had backed your plan such as it was?
- Something else. Something new. - It seems a bit of a vague target.
"Something else. Something new."
Roll the dice rather than rig the game first.
That is bad politics.
Sometimes you just take the next step, and the path appears.
That is what I wished to do, and my team dissolved around me.
- As I said, difference of opinion. - It happens.
Many people like this dress, but I have heard negative comments also.
We cannot change without cost, even if it is our own.
I felt you shared my vision and my ideas,
but perhaps you are a fucking dilettante after all.
Perhaps I just know my country better than you.
Should we have tea? Take a breath?
You should eat your fish.
- You may go. - Catherine, please.
Did I stutter? I said you may go.
Shit.
- What? - Your mother is on her way here.
- A rider. She's less than an hour away. - Mother? Huzzah!
Everything must look brilliant for Mother.
Marial, I am entrusting this to you. What am I wearing?
Why am I wearing this? I can't be wearing this!
Dimitri, you fucker! What did you do to him?
- Don't call me fucker. - Oh, fucker.
I opened his heart to himself, and he has gone inside its warmth.
Right. Okay. Good.
Thanks for helping him.
How's the not-quite assassination attempts?
- Pretty worried about hitting her. - Well, I wouldn't do that.
Peter will kill you and all your children.
Not helpful thoughts in keeping my hand steady.
She's already shaken.
Just shake her a little more, right off the throne.
- She's pretty blithe about it. - Then miss by a little bit less.
He has abandoned the field. We should keep going on his behalf.
How I have missed her.
A fucking hole in my heart I dared not acknowledge
lest blood pour from it and drown me in my longing for her.
It is a good time for her to come. You could use a hug.
Indeed, I could. And her hugs, they envelop one in a love so strong
you know nothing can hurt you.
Hello. What time do you call this? I call it Thursday.
Catherine, I'm sorry. After what happened, I just needed a few days.
We should talk about what happened.
Just apologize and help me get the court ready for Mother.
What?
I am trying to metabolize your betrayals, Orlo. Don't make it harder.
My opinions that were sidelined and put us in an untenable position, you mean?
Just be for me for today.
I am for you. Even when you don't realize it.
- That was what I came to... - Good. Great.
- Where's Velementov? - I don't know.
She's here!
Bubble, bubble.
Pop!
My Catherine. My dear one.
I'm sorry, I just...
Needed your mother and found an empty space?
Come. The space is empty no more.
Now, young lady, there is a rumor sweeping Europe
that you have taken Russia from your husband.
- Guard. - Yes, Empress?
- Who's the leader of Russia? - You are, Empress. Huzzah.
- Huzzah! - What is "huzzah"?
Huzzah. It's a lot of things. All purposes variously.
- Also, you notice I am pregnant? - I had hoped that's what it was.
Russians can be quite fat.
- I had feared you turned native. - Come, let me show you my palace!
You have arrived at an auspicious time.
My science fair, bringing together the scientists of Europe, begins tomorrow.
My girls' school. Just randomly practicing songs.
I have begun women's education and it is going extremely well.
I see.
Very nice, girls.
I aim to revamp this country in so many ways.
- Russia? - Yes.
We have so many plans for it to be one of the great, most progressive nations.
My darling, I have not seen that look on your face for so long.
I missed it so.
As usual, you bite off more than you can chew.
It's true. I am an optimist.
The line between optimist and delusional being one we often watch blur.
I know, but...
I came here and knew my destiny.
Well, you came here to be the emperor's wife.
Something happened to me when I arrived, Mother.
- This country entered my heart. - Well, I'm glad you like it.
But you have not asked after your sisters.
I have...
Got caught up in yourself, as you do so wonderfully?
And there is much magic to get caught up in.
- But come with me to earth, my darling. - Of course. How are they?
I went to Donna's in Spain. Oh, my word, the palace.
- It shimmers like some golden heaven. - Great. How magical.
Yes.
These rooms do have a certain raffish charm.
Help.
Come on. Fuck.
Hello.
- I'm trapped under him. - Against your will?
The fucking was at my behest but then he passed out, and I cannot move him.
He does not hear.
They're on our left flank.
Fuckers! Fuck... Come on!
- It's you. - Flee while you can, Madam Salanova.
God.
Catherine has requested you return to your duties.
Which are what?
Shooting more of our own
while the Ottomans prepare unchecked to finish the job for me?
It might have to do with the science fair, maybe, or meeting her mother.
I don't know actually.
- I'm going to admit something. - Don't.
- My... - Don't.
- ... faith is somewhat shaken. - Fuck.
Don't say things that cannot be unsaid. It will be fine.
She just has to listen to us a bit more. She is young. She is not Russian.
Fucking Ottomans.
They will be thinking me a cockless wonder.
- They're laughing at us in Europe. - So, it is your reputation you worry for.
I was born to beat fucking Ottomans. It's my destiny.
I have developed plans for a decade.
Then she is right. We go for nothing but dumb reasons.
You don't understand.
I have spent days thinking maybe my last battle was killing Russians.
My legacy.
- Your legacy is the coup that raised her. - Yeah.
I suppose she really won that. Not you. And then Sweden was a loss.
And before that, I suppose Peter the Great manufactured our victories
and you just obeyed, so...
- Sorry. I was just following a line of... - No, I'm well aware of the thought line.
Fuck. Someone will try to take her out.
- And us too. - I've stopped listening.
Well, you're right to be with her then.
And King Carlos adores your sister.
Their lovemaking speaks to it in its frequency, duration and volume.
- I'm so happy for her. - As am I.
And Nina in Lisbon is well. The king and her get on amicably.
They make a solid unit.
They had another child.
Delightful.
I look forward to mine.
- Gosh, you do look tired. - I do?
Well, beautiful, but that glow you always have about you is dulled.
- Are you all right? - I am. It is hard.
Indigestion too.
My dear one.
It passes.
Do not worry on me.
To a mother that is like saying, "Do not have a heart that beats."
I worry for all my daughters, but most now for poor Angela.
She has been crushed.
What?
A carriage accident? A falling tree? What?
I meant her heart. Her spirit.
I had clinched a deal for her to marry Louis.
- Of France? - Of France.
Imagine.
- Gosh. - Gosh indeed.
For a mother who set her heart on marrying her four daughters
to kings of Europe,
and no one would believe it when I said I would.
- They thought it madness. - But you always saw it.
And then to have done it, and for the final one to be France,
the jewel of Europe.
And then...
- And then? - And then...
You overthrew your husband, and the deal was off.
No one wants to risk a rebellion from inside the marriage bed.
- I'm... - Sorry? Speechless? Which?
Either would be fabulous. Both would be appropriate.
Sorry.
You are who you are.
Always were.
And I love you for your crazy mind and willful ways.
But you have cost your sister greatly with this whim.
- This is not a whim. It is my destiny. - We were talking of your sister.
Yes. I'm sorry. Yes.
Well, I will have to make a new plan.
It will be difficult now.
How did you kill your husband anyway?
I didn't.
What?
He is down in his apartments, under arrest.
What are you talking about?
It is complicated, but it was better for my transition to leave him alive.
- A savvy move, politically speaking. - Good God, Catherine.
You left him alive to come kill you once Prince Plodnik in there is born?
Good grief, child.
Sorry, Empress. Business of the day, alas.
- Mother, you must be tired. - No...
Marial will escort you to your apartments. Sprinkle, sprinkle.
Hello there.
Greetings. Are you here for the science competition?
- Yeah. Are you to greet me? - I am.
Welcome to Russia.
Jesus Christ, Pugachev. A little finesse.
Orlo, hello.
- Uncle Varnya. We're... - Indeed you are.
And how happy I am for you.
- Hello. - What is it?
- The baby is near. - Yes.
My concern is for her health. She dies, where are you?
Where are we? I mean, the serf riot was a disaster.
- She should be fine. - Optimism is for children, Orlo.
You're making love to a beautiful woman, so you are not a child.
Can we do this alone?
It is two more sentences, then we are done.
If we have no plan, we must act to get what we can as fast as we can.
What does that mean?
Don't "shh" me. And get off the fucking bed.
You have beautiful hair.
My mother loves beautiful hair.
May I take some?
- What? - Varnya?
Orlo, shush. I'm talking to Katya.
I'd like a little of her hair.
Now can I get off the bed?
- Please. - I'm almost done.
I merely need to look in Orlo's eyes and see he understands me.
It's pretty crystal clear from where I'm sitting.
Indeed.
Smart woman you have, Orlo. A keeper, as they say.
Who's he?
How was your trip?
Are you allowed to speak with me?
What?
I cannot read if you are servant or noble.
You seem servantish, but are well dressed.
I am noble. I'm your daughter's best friend.
- I see. - Mother of Russia's mother.
- And you are? - Elizabeth.
Aunt Elizabeth?
Exactly. We wrote when the deal was first done.
Sergei. Your hand.
Say hello and welcome, Sergei.
Cute.
- You survived the coup as well, it seems. - We all did.
Russia is on a new and better path. Huzzah!
So, you chose my daughter over your own blood.
- I chose Russia. - Or you chose what's in her belly.
I do not wish us to misunderstand each other.
I love your daughter.
- I am on her side. - I thought you were on Russia's side.
They are the same. She is Russia.
She is a child with a dazzling intelligence
and a dizzying belief in the power of herself.
And if she is being duped into using these
to put herself in grave danger at the behest of others,
then those people are no friends of mine.
- I assure you... - I am sure you do.
Poor Sergei.
He is unwell.
- What is it? - Don't know.
- How's it work? - Didn't ask.
So how are you going to use it if you don't know what it is or how it works?
That's a solid point.
Too bad you didn't think of it before you bashed his face in.
How is the scientist?
- Unconscious. - But not dead?
I'm pretty sure not.
I think we're good.
Fuck me. A chilled oyster with iced fennel shavings.
- Jesus, this cold box is a revelation. - Fuck, that's actually good.
Jean-Pierre, let's chill some soup.
- Brilliant idea. - Well said. I like that guy.
These cold berries are absolutely titillating.
- And the vodka slush. - My tongue itself is chilled.
- Feel my tongue. - I will.
It's best to focus on your wine glass
or sometimes a bird that is flying by in a distracting manner.
Oh, my God. Amazing. It's like a stick of tasty ice.
I wonder if I could make my cock cold in the same way.
- That's an interesting idea. - Yeah.
Tatyana, sit.
Tatyana, sit?
Is there a dog in the room shares my name?
- Make your tits cold. - Great idea.
Wait!
I mean, this is going to be a massive victory for her and all Russia.
If she agrees to let this be the entry. But why help her?
It will be a selfless act that will touch her heart.
That will be my victory.
I can't tell if you're joking.
- What's this? - I'm making my tits cold.
How bracingly interesting.
- Why don't we have tea some time? - Of course.
Now, I need a moment with the emperor.
- Catherine's mother is here. - Nice.
She loves her mother, so her mother must love you.
- Everyone loves me. - How true.
But special care is needed.
I sense danger. And things are rocky at the moment.
Mothers can turn a heart and mind with a look, as you well know.
Well, she will love me. I guarantee it.
Apparently, the Dutch have a stick you can see the stars with.
I thought they would just bring clogs.
Velementov. I have not seen you in days.
Yes. Well, shooting serfs takes it out of me.
Let us put it behind us. You are here now and relatively upright.
Close enough.
Apparently, the French can harvest lightning and run carriages off it.
- And we have? - A stapler. Which is good.
No, it isn't.
- And when are we due to present? - Tomorrow.
What are you doing here? Why are you free?
Because when Russia and the empress need me,
I intuitively know that because I listen to my heart, Orlo.
Catherine, open your mouth and close your eyes.
I did that once before and I did not enjoy it.
Your muffled murmurs of approbation said different.
They were...
Taste it. Feel it.
Ice?
Currant juice ice with a chocolate raspberry frozen inside.
It is summer. How?
Guards.
- Voila! - The refrigerated box.
No longer will we store meat in the snow
and hope it is not stolen by animals or bacteria.
It is a change people have dreamed of
and will change the course of human history,
and Russia will have done it.
And I invented it.
I had what is called a stroke of genius, something I am often stroked with.
- Orlo. - Empress?
Who has not arrived yet? Which delegation?
Norway.
Fuck. Where is he?
- I don't know who you mean. - A strange question.
I don't get it either. Apologies, Empress.
Is he safe?
He is fine. But...
And can he be kept safe and hidden until this is over?
- You mean... - If we use it, we win.
- And the people need a victory. - Huzzah.
- And? - Thank...
No, actually, don't thank me. I am a full well.
I do not need people's tears, spittle or approbation to fill it.
Thank you anyway.
Ladies, may I join you?
You can introduce me to some of that famous vodka of yours.
- Come with me. - I really don't want to talk.
We don't need to talk. But you need to see something.
Where are we going?
What is it?
A memorial for the dead.
Shakey, Svenska, the others.
Shit. I can't.
In Russia, we are brutal, I suppose,
but after, we try to heal a bit lest we rend completely.
We bury our dead, we bury our pains,
we bury our animus,
and we ask God to seal up our wounds.
They hold no grudge against each other? Against me?
It's not all washed away, but we try.
That is unexpected.
And impressive.
You want to teach us something, and we need it...
but maybe we can teach you something.
Amen.
It wasn't my fault.
Or maybe it was...
for I did not give you the courage you all needed in your hearts.
It is a view.
Thanks.
Sorry about the knife and the hair thing.
You know how I get.
We need help.
Can you give this back to her?
I feel bad stealing from Catherine.
Would she have given it to you?
I don't know.
She's hard to talk to sometimes.
Mother, I know you are cross over losing France.
Of course.
It is blood and ash in my mouth.
Well, then eat some blueberry and caramel flan while I tell you this.
You will find her somewhere.
But I am doing something here that will change the world.
I will forge this country into a progressive nation
that electrifies Europe and the world as to what is possible.
They will see the imagined become real.
Countries led by love, reason and joy
rather than darkness, capriciousness and bloodshed.
I will fucking prevail in this,
and the world will know you forged a daughter who did this.
God, I love your fire.
You are a wonder.
True. And thank you.
- It was fascinating wandering the court. - Glad you enjoyed it.
It's so funny how the women wear the finest French fashion
and still look like potatoes.
Mother.
Well, like any court, there are a variety of people.
But I am focused on the potential of the people.
I admire how you cling like grim death
to the idea that you can change this place.
I can.
Chew, chew, chew, little cat. But my worry is you will choke.
I will not.
Because the thing about any court is gossip,
and my wanderings today
led me to a clutch of sallow-faced, acid-tongued moles
who, after a few overly astringent vodkas lacking in floral notes,
told me a fascinating tale
about a bloody and chaotic uprising of serfs and nobles,
crocodiles roaming the court,
a war with the Ottomans looming,
a battle with the church that is no doubt doomed,
a general litany of failures,
and clearly a court who regard you as a disappointing curiosity.
- That's not true. - Which part?
It was one crocodile.
Well, it's my fault.
I should never have sent such a brilliant young woman to a shithole like this.
Come on. I want to meet your husband. Your prisoner.
- I'm not sure that... - When did you stop having fun?
I didn't. I'm just not sure it's...
Are you keeping me waiting? You know how I hate to wait.
No. Of course not. Let us go.
Chop-chop.
Feel it in the air.
- Damn. - Peter?
What are you doing?
My kung fu master is teaching me to hone my senses and perceptions.
I lose my sight but feel the trajectory through a sixth sense.
- My mother would like to meet you. - Brilliant.
Just be...
- Yes? - I don't know.
I feel I want you to be something for her, but I have no idea what.
I recognize it.
In my mother's presence, I would often be stuck to the floor in unsureness,
not knowing what was required but knowing something was.
It's not like that.
Stop doing that.
Don't mention the fridge and just be something.
Dimitri says the last thing we should be is something. In fact...
I cannot wait out there forever,
watching the guards undress me with their Russian mouse eyes.
Emperor Peter.
Do we still call you that?
You may call me whatever you wish, for it is such a joy to meet you.
For when this angel slipped from between your legs into the world
was the happiest of days for me.
You speak well of someone who took your empire.
- We don't have to talk about... - I love her.
And the empire-taking thing, long story.
I was very hungry, she has Paul inside her, so couldn't kill her.
A conflation of occurrences that has led us here.
And as my master Dimitri would say,
"To this point that is right in all its rightness."
- Cake, mother-in-law dearest? - Good grief.
So, did I hear you say that you love her?
I do love her.
- No. He thinks he does. - I do.
And her me. Although she is struggling admitting her feelings.
It's not a struggle.
I am fond of you the way one feels seeing a cat with no eyes and a limp paw.
Cats like that fill you with lust?
No. More I vacillate between pitying it and murdering it.
How you fight yourself. It is fascinating and endearing to watch.
- How very interesting. - It's not.
- It is curious and yet somewhat comical. - A great love story.
I have Voltaire working on the memoir of it.
You do not.
It will be a classique. Formidable.
And je ne sais quoi.
So, you are sanguine about her taking your empire?
I don't want it.
Right. I sense that you are humoring her through this.
- He's not humoring me, Mother... - I was, but now I...
You are my prisoner, and I will cut your fucking head off if I whim it.
But do not. Although, in a sense, she is right.
I am her prisoner for I am trapped by her love.
But let us talk of you, Joanna. What style, what grace.
Your skin is porcelain, your eyes just piercing with intelligence.
How do you entertain yourself in confinement?
I recently had an epiphany.
French for, "Fuck me. I'm all wrong and now I see the truth of myself."
Fucking hard going, this spiritual path, but I am resolved for Paul to do it.
I also study French, kung fu, theology, astronomy
and I have lately invented many condiments
containing whipped egg yolks with mustard and lemon.
- A sort of eggonaise. - It is dull to speak of oneself so much.
- You asked him. - No, you are indeed right.
- How was your trip? - How was my trip?
What a sparkling conversational gambit.
Thank you. Did you find any tasty morsels on the journey?
Calcots are in season.
Often they just grow wild by the roadside and when grilled...
I'm done.
He is interminable.
- What? - Mother.
I don't think you understood the throwing and catching of the cakes.
Is he still talking?
You could've at least cut out his tongue if you weren't going to kill him.
She likes my fucking tongue!
He is a strange one, isn't he?
I need him alive politically. And he is the father of my child, so...
Fathers are overrated. As you know.
Overrated and basically harmless.
- As you know. - Perhaps.
- You like him. - I do not.
I mean I am fond, and he is curious and kind sometimes
but is a terrible person as well...
- What a mess. - It is not.
- I don't think it is. - I know you don't.
That's why you have me. Always was. Stop scratching. Your rash.
I haven't had it for ages, but yes.
Put some cream on it. And get some sleep, darling one.
I heard the Norwegian scientist is missing and he had a fridge device.
Are you looking for him? I would love to see that.
You fucking idiot. Fucking, fucking idiot, Catherine.
I don't find you interminable.
I find you thrilling.
Shit.
- God, I needed that. - Same.
I know we never speak of... them.
It is a rule.
But her mother is a piece of work, and she is someone else around her.
He is fucking lost to me and in thrall of Dimitri.
Nice to have someone.
Yeah.
- Do you want to go again? - Fuck yeah.
Is someone there?
Come out. Show yourself and then shoot, coward.
Empress, sorry, I didn't mean to startle.
That's fine. You wish to speak to me?
It's crazy, but I have to.
I have this idea and I know the courts were asked for ideas
and it is not my place to provide any,
but what you said about serfs in the room with Shakey that day, I was there.
I hold the napkins at the rear of the table.
- You probably haven't seen... - I have.
I heard Nivitz's idea. The Exultation.
- Crazy, isn't it? - Yeah, but not if you adjust it.
Can I show you?
We use the force of the downslope to generate energy,
creating a continuous undulating track.
We create a force that never expends itself.
Exactly. It rolls down, then coasts,
then rolls up, rolls down, coasts off its energy.
And I am sure it will have a wealth of industrial applications.
And we should have it replace the stapler as our entry.
- Huzzah! - Still, it's only a model, though.
- Why don't we just build the whole thing? - That would be impressive.
- By tomorrow afternoon? I think not. - This is Russia.
I've never heard that saying said as a good thing.
There's an old Russian proverb:
A million Russians, each with one thread. Many shirts.
- Let's wake some fuckers up. - Are you drunk?
It's midnight. We're all drunk. May as well win something.
- Shall we do this? - Yeah!
Compulsions that I thought were long behind me
have resurfaced.
Obsessive thoughts.
- Cravings. - Oh, God.
I'm trying not to think what he makes of it.
I kissed Basil...
and it seems to have triggered the old me.
Oh, dear.
I want to fuck everything.
Everyone. You. The guard with the clubfoot. The footman with the thin lips.
- Chickens in the kitchen. - Not me.
- I know. How disgusting is that? - I am very attractive, so it is logical.
It's just fucked up because it's you.
It's fine, it's fine. God saved me before, and he'll save me again.
Have you always had such a cleavage?
Do you need to whip yourself or something?
Yes. That's great. Pain. I forgot about pain.
Like a small release that keeps me even.
Great.
I probably should go.
Thanks for your help.
Don't fucking think about me while you're doing that.
Welcome all! Huzzah, as we say in Russia.
We look forward to the competition
as we push Europe and the world into the future.
Ladies, sick of putting a lemon top in your vaj?
The come catcher.
Is he supposed to lay there like that?
Marvelous.
- I'm so glad you found the Norwegian. - So marvelous.
Where's Russia's?
- We're next. - Well, let's go. Chop-chop.
- Do we know? - Don't know. They were working all night.
We did it.
We did.
Mother. I call it The Roll And Coast.
It's cute.
But it isn't science, darling.
Thanks for the ice cream. Shame about the fridge.
Fucking Pugachev running his mouth around court, no doubt.
- You met Joanna. And? - She likes me. That is certain.
You're sure?
She grabbed my cock, bit my ear, and spoke hotly to me, so pretty sure.
You didn't fuck her. Please tell me you didn't.
No. However if I did, I would be even more endeared to her,
as women love me more once I have loved them in a bodily way.
- So maybe I should. - I will say this just once.
Women don't end up with men who fuck their mothers.
Good insight. Not always true in my experience.
However, I don't want to fuck her. I mean, I do, as she made my cock hard.
But in my heart and the rest of me, I want only Catherine.
Peter. Don't fuck her. Catherine will kill us.
I will definitely try not to.