Truth and Lies The Roy Files

So there I was, hard at it doing my homework, when my ma comes in.

Ah, Roy, that doesn't look like your homework.

But, Ma, it's history homework for Hammo.

Ah, history, gossip's fancy cousin.

Your assignment is to write the life story

of a historical figure of your choice.

-I want every fact...

-He wants every fact...

BOTH: ..every figure and every single detail.

I don't know where to start.

What do I know about the woman who built France

or the man who invented hiccups?

-Why not try writing about the person you know best?

-Who is that?

-You. We are all a part of history.

-Ma was right,

but did I really want everybody knowing everything about me?

There are some things I wished even I didn't know.

My da was very persuasive, though.

You know what he's like when he gets fired up about something!

Does whatever you're saying mean I have to stop reading this paper?

-No.

-Do that, then.

So, I'm writing it all down -

The Life And Thoughts Of Roy O'Brien.

Cos these are The Roy Files.

I'm not going to lie,

it is a tricky subject for the scrapbook today.

We know what's wrong,

but that doesn't always stop us from doing it.

And, no, I'm not talking about eating that hairy sweetie

from down the back of the couch when you're looking for the TV remote.

I am talking about lying.

-Are those frogs?

-Yeah.

Happy, happy, erm, Mother's Day!

-But it's not Mother's Day.

-Yeah, but...

-He was going to keep them until Mother's Day.

-Oh.

It was meant to be a surprise.

Ah, frogs, on Mother's Day.

Yeah.

Is that why you have been hiding it up in your own room?

Yeah.

Oh...

Come here, son.

Mwah!

Hey, I didn't say I was perfect. In fact, far from it.

Have you seen my game? I can't find it anywhere.

Uh-oh.

You haven't got it, have you?

Nope, not me. Haven't got it, haven't seen it, nope.

JINGLE PLAYS

You are supposed to be my best friend, Roy.

-Listen, Tommy, I'm sorry.

-Don't bother.

Ask anybody about lying and they will tell you it's wrong.

That's right, son. Honesty is the best policy.

Whenever you start telling porkies, Roy, it always ends badly.

If you will indulge me for a line from the Bard...

"The truth will out!"

The truth will out? What's that supposed to mean?

I don't know who this Bard guy is but he needs to work on his English.

Work on his English?!

I'm talking about Shakespeare!

The point is, everybody makes it sound so easy.

Just always tell the truth, right?

But what if you have got a really good reason to lie?

-Four for...

-Four? Is that your age, is it?

It's for over 15s only.

I'm 22.

I know who you are.

You are that cartoon fellow that goes to school down at Ballyfermot.

I know you're only eight.

Eight? I'm 11...

I'm 22!

So, here's the big question - is it ever OK to tell a lie?

That is a tough one.

I'm going straight to the top with this.

Well, of course, before one can unequivocally state that

the optimal outcome will invariably be to "tell the truth",

you have to ask yourself some very difficult questions,

like what exactly do you mean by "truth"?

And then, what do you mean by "tell"?

And finally, what do you mean by "the"?

I have no idea what you mean by anything, miss.

Maybe I should try someone else.

Well, Roy, sometimes people don't have the choice

to lie or tell the truth.

In fact, there is a condition called pseudologia fantastica

which is where the patient can't stop lying.

I think Becky might have that.

Much more interesting, though, is a cartoon condition which

people can catch where the sufferer can't help revealing the truth.

That rings a bell.

This hall pass is for 11.30.

It's now 11.31 - one minute past, it has expired.

Stop running in the corridor! Ha-ha-ha!

Do you take me for some kind of fool, young man?

No, sir!

No, the medical pioneer that discovered this condition

gave it the brilliantly appropriate name bubblitis.

Of course, modesty forbids me

revealing the identity of the pioneer.

Yes, indeed. Modesty forbids.

It was me.

When bubblitis hit our house, we certainly knew all about it.

Dad, can I have 20 quid? I'm going to the movies after dinner.

-No way!

-What?

Not till the weekend. You still have that essay to do.

Oh, so you think I'm some kind of dictator now, do you?

Oh, so you think I'm a spoiled princess?

I never said that!

Well, it's written all over your head.

And who do you think was the most worried about catching it?

That's right, Mr Honesty Is The Best Policy himself.

I can't catch bubblitis.

If your mother knew what I was really thinking

half of the time, I would be dead.

Sometimes too much truth can be a bad thing.

So, which is it, Da?

Honesty is the best policy or too much truth is a bad thing?

OK.

OK, I'm going to level with you, son. But you have to...

..keep this under your hat, OK?

OK, but only if you promise to buy me a hat first.

It is a figure of speech.

It was a little joke, Da.

Oh, right. Ha-ha! Very good.

Anyway, sometimes, when you are telling a little white lie,

it could be the best thing to do.

You know, you could be trying to spare someone's feelings

or you could be trying to help out a friend.

Oh, like the time I blew up the science class

-and Miss Sheringham told Hammo it was Uncle Troy?

-Exactly.

Blew up a science class?

What are you talking about?

And who is Uncle Troy?

Sorry, Da, you're breaking up.

I almost forgot about Uncle Troy.

He was one of those tiny white lies that turned into a great big,

gnarly, burn-down-the-school whopper of a lie.

Mr Jones, as you can see I am in no condition to teach my science class.

Not until these bandages come off, anyway.

So I would like to start you as soon as possible. How does that sound?

Mr Jones?

-Mr Jones?

-Actually...

HE CLEARS HIS THROAT

GRUFF VOICE: Actually, the name is O'Brien.

O'Brien? Where was I getting Mr Jones from?

I do apologise, Mr O'Brien.

I really must have a word with that receptionist of ours.

So, what do you say? Can you start today?

Before I knew it, I had kind of accidentally

created a whole new person.

Everybody, this is Troy O'Brien,

our new substitute science teacher.

Ahem... GRUFF VOICE: Good morning, fellow teachers.

Yes, he is Roy O'Brien's uncle.

But we won't hold that against him!

And for the first time ever, Hammo really liked me.

Well, he liked Uncle Troy, anyway.

Ah, Troy O'Brien.

What a man, what an educator.

He is a credit to your family, Roy.

Too bad you two don't have more in common.

So the maths teacher says,

"If I have seven oranges in this hand

"and eight oranges in this hand...

"..what do I have?"

Hmm?

And the schoolgirl says...

"Very big hands!"

Miss him every day.

That man was like...

a brother to me.

I felt I understood him in a way no-one else did.

You know what else is funny?

You never see Troy and Roy in the same room at the same time.

Well, the thing is...

You know how kids feel about being related to their teacher.

Roy is embarrassed to be seen with me.

It is so strange.

I became a teacher to help children find themselves, you know?

And I...

I end up losing my nephew on the way.

ROY SOBS

Well now, Miss Sheringham.

I hope you're happy with yourself.

Fooling teachers is too easy. Well, most of them.

Fine.

I apologise.

In fact...

..I feel so bad...

..I'd like to invite you out for dinner tonight,

to celebrate your first day.

Ah, that's a super idea! Count me in.

Great, the more the merrier.

Ah, that's...not necessary.

Oh, but I insist.

How about that nice Chinese place?

The Golden Noodle.

Sheringham knew that I was already going there

for my ma's birthday that night.

You wouldn't think it to look at her,

but that woman has got an evil streak.

So, that's four Singapore Special...

And a...

-I need to go to the toilet. I'll be back in a minute.

-OK, love.

'Things went OK at first.

'With a little help from Tommy, I was totally getting away with it.

'The problem was,

'when it came to fooling Hammo, I'd done my job a little too well.'

You know, Troy, I have been thinking...

Maybe you should stay on at the school full-time.

What?!

'And that is when things started getting messy.'

-Is that a moustache?

-Huh?

'And a little wet.'

Hello, Roy.

Hello, Miss Sheringham.

I believe birthday wishes are in order.

Such a lovely family location.

Speaking of family, there is actually

someone very special I'd like you to meet at our table.

Not good. I needed a distraction to take the heat off.

# Happy birthday... #

'Luckily, kids, especially cartoon kids, can't eat two Chinese banquets

'in one night without stuff happening inside.'

Oh, my centrepiece!

'But there was an even more explosive moment to come

'in Uncle Troy's teaching career.'

OK, class, settle down.

Now, stain remover. Where were we? Hmm.

Manganese oxide?

But if he adds that to the mixture...

BANG!

SCREAMING

COUGHING

Is everybody all right?

I knew it! Roy is Troy.

You are in so much trouble, Roy O'Brien.

I'm sorry, it was never supposed to go this far.

It was just one little lie that got too out of hand and...

I think I have learnt my lesson now.

Honestly really is the best policy.

Please, miss, please don't tell Mr Hammond...

'So, I had learnt my lesson - even little lies can be dangerous.'

What the blazes is going on here?

'But then, guess what Miss Sheringham did next.'

Mr Hammond, it appears that Troy O'Brien's poor science skills

literally blew up in his face.

After that, he just disappeared.

Disappeared?

And I'm sure he won't be coming back.

She told a lie!

OK, so she did it to get me out of trouble, but a lie is a lie, right?

It is all so confusing.

Anyway, plenty to think about with the old truth and lies,

but keep to these simple rules and you will be fine.

Telling the truth is always best.

That way, you don't have to remember all the stupid stuff you made up.

And there will be times

when using a little white lie seems like the right thing to do,

like when I tell Becky she looks good in the mornings.

But remember,

even cute little lies have a habit of turning into big ugly ones.

So, if you don't want to end up pretending to be your own uncle

and blowing up your school, I'd stick to telling the truth.

There you go, scrapbook sorted.

HE SNIFFS

And just in time.

Smells like sausages for dinner again, and my nose never lies.

See yous!