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Over there, is the big Fat Lady's Arms. Ah, on Wednesday's there'll be, like a fear factor competition. You can win like t-shirts and hats and spot prizes. I can smell werewolves. Okay, we're just about to walk past some werewolves so some shit might go down! Look out guys. Don't catch fleas. - What's that, mate? - Deacon. - Sorry what? - Keep going, keep walking. - Keep walking! - We heard that mate. We've got sensitive hearing. - Have you? - Yeah. What are you filming? Some music video, is it? We don't want any trouble. - I do! - Why did you start it? - Have I got your heckles up? Huh? Why don't you go smell your own crotches, huh? - Come on Deacon, stop it. - What are you talking about? We don't smell our own crotches. We smell each others crotches. And it's a, form of... greeting. Your on camera, mate, don't, don't do it... What? It's okay, cause I know this guy. It's count Fagula.
What We Do in the Shadows