It seems today that all you see
Is violence in movies and sex on TV
But where are those good old-fashioned values
On which we used to rely?
Lucky there's a family guy
Lucky there's a man who positively can do
All the things that make us
Laugh and cry
He's... a... Fam... ily... Guy!
Um, Mom, Dad, um,
I decided I want a big party this year with all my friends.
And maybe a band.
Is that cool?
-Yeah, sure. -Yeah.
-Yeah, well, that's... -Sure.
-Yeah, why not? -Why not? Sure.
Oh, thanks, guys!
You're the best!
What's she talking about?
A party for what?
I don't know.
She have her period or something?
She getting married?
No. If she was getting married,
we probably would've seen a guy around, right?
Sound reasoning.
You guys, it's Meg's birthday next week.
(gasps) Oh, my God, it is!
Peter, we got to put together a party!
Ah, man, I hate kids' birthday parties.
This is gonna be worse than that time
I was stuck behind Robert Loggia at the airport.
May I have your name, please?
Robert Loggia.
Can you spell that for me?
Certainly. That's Robert Loggia.
"R" as in Robert Loggia,
"O" as in "Oh, my God, it's Robert Loggia,"
"B" as in "By God, that's Robert Loggia,"
"E" as in everybody loves Robert Loggia,
"R" as in Robert Loggia,
"T" as in "Tim, look over there, it's Robert Loggia,"
space,
"L" as in "Look! It's Robert Loggia..."
(sighs)
Here you are, Brian.
What's this?
It's an invitation to Meg's party.
I'm the party planner.
You have to RSVP.
You can do it right now if you want.
All right, fine, I'll come to Meg's party.
No, you have to call the RSVP line.
You got to be kidding me.
I'm waiting.
(sighs)
Ring, ring.
Aren't you gonna pick it up?
No, I'm not gonna pick it up on the first few rings.
I'm busy. Maybe I'm in the other room.
Ring, ring.
Ring, ring...
Ring, ring.
Ring... Oh, come on!
(high-pitched voice): Hello! Stewie?
No, this is Stewie's housekeeper, Mrs. Pennyapple.
I'll see if he's in.
Stewie! Stewie!
(normal voice): Yes, Mrs. Pennyapple?
You've got a telephone call.
Who is it? He didn't say.
Well, find out, would you?
Who is this? It's Brian.
It's Brian!
Oh, Brian. Probably RSVPing about Megan's party.
Hello, Brian. Hi, Stewie.
What can I do for you?
I'm coming to Meg's party.
Oh, splendid.
Just give your information to Mrs. Pennyapple.
Hello, it's Mrs. Pennyapple again.
Shall I put you down for two, Brendan?
Brian. Ryan?
Brian! Mitchell?
What? Good-bye.
Hey, Lois, I'm ordering a birthday cake,
and the guy wants to know how old Meg is.
I didn't know what to tell him.
You're asking me?
Yeah. How old is Meg?
I don't know.
Well, my God, Lois,
I thought you were the one keeping track of that.
No, no. I have no idea.
Don't you remember me faking my way through her last birthday?
You are hmm-hmm
Going on hmm-hmm
Fellas will fall in line...
Should we...
Should we just ask her how old she is?
That, uh, that'd be kind of awkward, huh?
Hey, maybe we should just cut off her leg and count the rings.
(both laughing)
Yeah. Or maybe try carbon dating.
(both laughing)
I don't know what that is.
You know, we're gonna have to talk to her
and kind of steer the conversation
in a way that gets her to spill it.
(knocking) Come in.
Hi, sweetie. Hey, Meg.
So, Meg, your birthday's coming up, huh?
You excited about turning...
Huh?
Uh, Meg, uh, I got 16 candles for your birthday cake.
How does that sound?
That's not right.
So... less...?
More...?
Too many...?
Not enough?
You stupid son of a bitch!
You didn't even know how old I am!
Meg, that kind of language is not appropriate
for a girl your age.
Or is it?
I'm gonna be 17, you jerks!
She's the jerk.
All right, come on in, everybody.
Have a seat anywhere.
Meg's gonna open her presents in a little bit.
Oh, Francis, I'm glad you could make it.
Here! Here's this for Megan!
Oh. What is it?
It's a cookie from lunch period at the home!
Well, I'm sure she'll love this.
I want to see her eat it!
So the man asks the bartender to recommend a good drink.
The bartender says, "A Grasshopper."
So the guy orders a Grasshopper.
Then he's walking home and along the way,
he notices a grasshopper on the ground.
So he says to the grasshopper,
"Hey, you know there's a drink named after you?"
The grasshopper says, "You mean there's a drink named Irving?"
(laughter)
So which one of you wants to lose your virginity?
Mom, this party sucks!
I mean, balloons?
Pin the tail on the donkey?
I'm not five years old.
Meg, your father worked very hard to put this party together.
And he says he's got a big surprise for you.
Hey, kids, I'm Peepants, the inebriated hobo clown.
I'm an adorable tramp who wears found clothing
and eats out of your garbage can.
A clown?!
Dad, I'm 17!
Meg, guess what Peepants got you for your birthday.
A scarf.
I don't want a scarf, Dad.
Well, then how about...
a dozen scarves?!
(humming circus music)
(gagging)
(coughing)
Peter, I don't think you're actually
supposed to swallow those.
(gagging)
(coughing)
Here you go, Meg.
I don't want them!
Take them!
Hey, are my long johns tied to the end of those?
No. Oh, God.
(retching)
(coughing)
Ow! Ow!
Ow!
Mom, can I just open my presents now?
All right, Meg.
Thank you.
(paper ripping) What the...?
Well, let's see what else we've got here.
The first season of Sister, Sister on DVD?
CLEVELAND: You're welcome.
Stewie, what are you doing?!
You can't open Meg's gifts!
Hey! These are mine, you hear me?
Mine!
Oh, God, not the "mine" phase.
I've been dreading this day.
I'm entitled to these things, Lois.
Especially after I got shafted by that Asian Santa at the mall.
What you want?! What you want for Christmas?!
Um, I was thinking maybe one of those old-timey...
Too late! Take too long! Sad Christmas!
-What you want?! -Fire truck!
-What color?! -Red!
-Next! -(screaming)
Peter, have you been drinking?
Well, a little. It is a party.
Take off that stupid costume!
You look like a damn fool.
Ah, Dad, you won't say that
when you see my grand unicycle finale.
Everyone, I'll be right back.
In the meantime, I leave you with
the musical stylings of Chris Griffin.
(soft rock playing)
(screechy, off-key): I don't know what we're afraid of
Nothing would change if we made love
So I'll be your friend
(falsetto): And I'll be your lover...
(sighs)
All right, this is gonna blow you guys aw...!
(screaming)
Grandpa! Oh, my God!
Is he breathing?
Somebody call an ambulance!
Uh, Lois, maybe you better call two ambulances.
How is he, Doctor?
Mrs. Griffin, his internal injuries were much too severe.
I'd estimate he'll be dead within the hour.
Dad, I'm so sorry I broke all your ribs
and busted your spleen and punctured your lung.
I don't if you can hear me right now,
but I hope you know-- I love you, Dad.
Peter...
come closer.
There's something... I need to say to you.
I'm here, Dad. What is it?
Peter...
you're a fat, stinking drunk.
(flatline tone)
Oh, my God, he's dead.
He can't be dead.
There's got to be something I can do.
Maybe I'll bury him in the pet cemetery.
(both screaming)
Okay, I'll bury him in a regular cemetery.
I can't believe Grandpa's dead.
Well, he did kind of treat us like crap,
but, yes, it is a tragedy.
It is a tragedy.
Excuse us.
Yeah, we'll be right back.
We're all gonna miss him.
Tragic.
You know what the worst part is?
All I wanted was for my dad to tell me he loved me.
But instead, he called me a fat, stinking drunk.
Those were his last words.
Well, I hate to side with your father, Peter,
but you do kind of drink a lot,
and, you know, sometimes it affects the people you love.
Oh, my God.
Lois, you're right.
Booze made me fall down all those stairs.
Booze killed my father.
Well, from this day forward,
I, Peter Griffin, will never drink again.
Peter, what are you doing?
Crack.
What the (bleep)?!
Hey, at least I'm not drinking, Brian.
Yeah, this isn't exactly a good substitute.
Where'd you get crack?
From blacks. What?
Yeah, right behind Black's Hardware Store.
There's a white guy selling it.
Look, doing crack is not the way to stop drinking.
You need to get to the heart of
why you feel the need to drink in the first place.
Look, here, this is the number
of a hypnotherapist I want you to see.
All right, Brian.
Good.
Hey, Peter, just thought I'd check on you.
Oh, my God!
Gov'ment came and took my baby!
This is mine, and this is mine,
and that's mine, and this is mine.
Oh, what's this?
"Hot Monogamy, the board game
for failing marriages."
"Dare card: Have her do a strip tease
and see how long it takes you to get a 'bonner.'"
What's a "bonner"?
Stewie, what are you doing with my jewelry box?
You give that back to Mommy.
No! Go to hell!
Stewie, I have had just about enough
of this new selfish attitude of yours.
Now, give that back to Mommy!
Very well, then.
If I can't have it, nobody can!
That is enough!
You... you struck me!
(gasps) Oh, my God.
Stewie, honey, I am so sorry.
Are you okay, sweetie?
(wailing)
Oh, honey, I'm sorry.
Mommy would never hurt you.
Let me give you a hug.
(screaming): No!
(sobbing)
I haven't been this scared since Mother Teresa OD'd in my car.
She is messed up, man!
Shut up! Just shut up!
Let me (bleep) think!
(tires screeching)
Push her out. We can't leave her alone.
Push the bitch out!
(tires screeching)
Okay, now let's go back in your mind to your childhood,
to some of your deepest memories.
Yeah, I'm getting something.
Happy Father's Day, Dad.
I'm not your father!
Oh, my God!
Francis Griffin wasn't my real father!
I wonder what else I've repressed.
Oh, my God!
I could've had a V8.
It was horrible, Rupert.
It was like a nightmare.
Lois came at me like a wild animal.
I had no way to defend myself.
Mother, I'm sorry I went against your wishes.
(growling)
Ow! Ow, ow!
I'm sorry I misbehaved, mother!
(grunting) I'm sorry I misbehaved!
It'll never happen again!
(whimpering)
I love you, Mommy Dearest!
(gasping)
(grunting)
Oh, it was awful, Rupert.
I felt terrified and brutalized
and humiliated and... and...
and alive.
My God, I...
I haven't felt that alive in years.
Rupert, you know,
I think perhaps I may be one of those people who...
gets a jolly out of being hit.
Oh, Stewie, there you are.
Mommy is so sorry she hit you.
I promise I will never lay a hand on you again.
Well, let's not make any rash decisions.
I mean, I did provoke you.
Come on, Lois, hit me! Beat the crap out of me!
Step on my cubes.
(doorbell rings)
Oh, hi, Peter.
Are you here to bring back the TV set?
No, I sold it for crack.
But listen, Mom, I've got to ask you something.
Who's my real father?
Uh... I knew this day would come.
All right, Peter, here it is.
About 40 years ago, I was vactioning in Ireland,
and I met a young rogue named Mickey McFinnegan.
Peter, Mickey is your real father.
Oh my God! I gotta find him!
To Ireland!
Sweetheart, when will you be back?
I don't know, Lois.
All I know is somewhere in the great land of Ireland,
is a big fat bastard who looks like me.
Call me as soon as you can, Peter.
And I really hope you find your real father.
We're gonna miss you, Dad.
Come back soon, Daddy... I love you.
That'll do, pig. That'll do.
There she is, Rupert.
Oh, if I can just get her to hit me one more time,
it'll give me the rush I've been looking for!
(moans, then laughs)
What's next? What's next? What's next?
Oh, God, I've been so bloody naughty,
and I need to be taught a lesson and you're the one to do it.
(screaming)
Oh! Thank you!
Thank you!
Yeah, all that stuff.
Let's make that happen.
Oh, hi, sweetie. You want some juice?
Ooh, that'll be lovely.
Oh, Stewie! Yeah?
Look at the mess you made.
Oh, I've made a terrible mess, haven't I?
Yes, I made you take time out of your day to clean
up my mess and I should be punished for it.
Go! Well, I guess it's not that big a deal.
Accidents happen.
I don't know. Don't you think you should spank me
or slice my nostril?
It's all right, Stewie.
Now go play.
All right.
Look! I've drawn heavyweight pugilist
David Tua on the wall. Punish me!
Uh, sweetie, you've really gotta stop--
huh, looks like David Tua--
You've really gotta stop misbehaving.
You're getting on Mommy's nerves.
Well, you know what'll ease your stress?
Slap me across the face like a bitch!
It's all right. I'll get some Windex.
Come on! Discipline me!
Make me wear panties, rub dirt in my eye,
violate me with a wine bottle.
My God, I really do have problems, don't I?
PILOT (on P.A.): Welcome to Ireland.
We'll be landing in five minutes.
This is quite a country, Brian.
You know, Ireland has more drunks per capita than people.
Oh, that's a negative stereotype.
I don't think the Irish drink as much as people say they do.
(bottles clattering)
Uh, excuse me? Is this McSwiggen Village?
Ah, dibble a man who say a word aginit, hmmm?
Is that a yes or a no?
Aye, tis McSwiggen Village.
Where the hills are green, the streams are clear,
and the sweaters are so thick,
even the boniest- fingered nun could poke you in the chest
and it wouldn't bother you none.
Don't be so bold with your dark hair and your proud ways!
I can't feel a thing!
Hey, uh, you heard of a man named Mickey McFinnegan?
Have I heard of him?
Of course I've heard of him!
He's the town drunk!
Town drunk?!
Oh, my God, you mean he's the disgrace of the whole town?
(laughing)
You lads aren't from around here, are ya?
Top of the morning, ladies!
Let me cut you an Irish rose.
(farting) (laughing)
Whoo!
I don't know exactly where the County Cork is
but I know where it should be!
(laughing)
Around here, the town drunk is a person of great honor.
Uh, excuse me, sir?
My name is Peter. Pleased to meet you, lad.
Name's Mickey. Listen, uh...
this may be hard for you to believe but...
you're my father. Oh, am I now?
Yeah, I came all the way from America to find you.
I suppose it's money you're wantin'.
I owe you some allowance and so forth.
(laughing)
(all laughing)
Oh, no, I don't want money.
I just want to get to know you and be friends
so I can finally have a real dad
who loves and respects me.
You can't be me son.
You and me are nothing alike.
Just ask me sheep, O'Brian.
Who's leg do you have to hump
to get a pint of Guinness around here?
Boy it's amazing, isn't it?
You get two fathers and neither one of them
wants anything to do with you.
There's got to be some way I can make him see
that I'm worthy of being his son.
About the only way I can ever impress him
is if I was a fat stinkin' drunk.
FRANCIS: Peter! You are afat stinking drunk.
What?
You're a fat stinking drunk!
Yes, from what he's told us, that's right on the money.
Challenge him, you must.
And I'm Hayden Christensen.
Wait a minute, Brian, that's it!
I'm a fat stinkin' drunk
because my father is a fat stinkin' drunk.
And I gotta prove it to him.
I have gotta drink him so far under the table,
he'll have no choice but to respect me.
Get me a beer, Brian.
And I am going to prepare for this as thoroughly
as Ben Affleck prepares for a role.
Whoa! I've got to be Henry VIII in 20 minutes!
Hello... hallo...
(English accent): Allo, Allo.
Got it.
Mickey McFinnegan... I challenge you to a drinking contest.
(crowd gasps)
Ha! And what makes you think you can hold your own
with the likes of me?
Because I'm your son! And I'm tough.
I made it halfway through Failure to Launch.
I just never managed to get my life together.
Isn't that hilarious?
(laughs): You're cute.
Done!
As we say in Ireland,
let's drink until the alcohol in our system
destroys our livers and kills us.
I've got 20 on the fat one.
BOTH: Which one's the fat one?
(both laugh)
(bleating)
(speaking slurred gibberish):
(grunts)
-What happened? -Peter, you won!
My God, nobody's ever beat me at the game of drink.
Now do you believe that you're my dad?
Nobody but a McFinnegan could handle that much of the creature.
You're the broth of me own stubby shillelagh, all right.
Welcome to me family, Peter.
You hear that, Brian?
I'm a McFinnegan now!
I can forget all about Francis.
You know, there's something you should always remember, Peter.
Francis may not have been your father,
but he raised you as if you were his own.
And if that isn't love, I don't know what is.
Wow, I guess you're right.
But there is one thing, Mickey.
You knocked up my mom and never called her again.
Yeah, so what?
So what? So let's dance!
Oh he doesn't smell like Irish Spring
And he never taught me anything
But still I slap my chest and sing of my drunken Irish dad
Oh, his face looks like a railroad map
And he never shuts his freakin' trap
But all the ladies catch the clap
from your drunken Irish dad
Ask a Hennesy, Tennesy, Morrison, Shaughnessy
Riordan and Rooney, they'll tell you the same
McNutley, Mulrooney and Cotter and Clooney
All feel the same mixture of pride and the same
Finnegan, Hannigan, Kelly and Flannigan
Look to the ground when their dad passes by
Cafferty, Rafferty, Joyce and O'Lafferty
Fight for his honor and then start to cry
(mugs clanking)
Oh, we Irish lads are all infirm
And our moods infect us like a germ
'Cause we're all the spawn of a pickled sperm
And we don't tan well, either.
From a drunken Irish dad!