I did a little scientific research with myself last night, and found that the absolute right way to end a weekend that started with a new and deeply disturbing episode of Battlestar Galactica is to sit down with a couple of screwballs on Flight of the Conchords. Actually let’s raise that “couple” to “three,” because without ol’ Ginger Balls, at least half the screws would be missing. In other news, Bret still looks like mama’s little lost bear cub and Jemaine, while sexy as all hell, still carries himself like Frankenstein. I’m sorry, but it’s true. And I’m sorry again, but all the riches of this show are in the details, so this ended up as more of a recap than a review. What can I say? Let’s not worry about semantics and also, life is hard.

Picking up where we left off last season, Murray is still King of the Dicks on top of the world; i.e., filthy rich manager to new world sensation Crazy Dogggz (whose hits range from “Doggie Bounce” to “Doggie Dance” and “In the Pound”), working from a brand new office that is miles and worlds away from the New Zealand consulate. His great success is taking its toll on band meetings, though, since he is pathologically incapable of separating the Conchords’ agenda from that of his gold-plated starrrz. Indeed, since we saw them last, Bret and Jemaine have not managed to go platinum, team up with R. Kelly, win a real Grammy, or even keep a handle on all their shoes. They did, however, steal a cushion from the library during a gig, which Murray advises them to return. (“Guys! You can’t steal cushions!” What a great manager.) Finally Bret brings out the big guns, pulling a note from his pocket to read, “Dear Murray: We want to fire you as our manager.” Their grand plan? To manage themselves. Yay! What could possibly go wrong? Murray, pissed, tells them to go stuff themselves: he’s got the Crazy Dogggz, who will never, ever die or even get sued by the Polish. But he’s hurt anyway.

Insert quasi-aria by Murray:  “Rejected”
Rejected, thrown away.
Affected, I don’t know what to say.
Ejected, cast out to the sea.
Disconnected, they didn’t want me.
Unprotected, like a baby in the snow.
Ejected, like a clown without a show.
I objected, pretended I was unaffected,
But still ended up rejected.
Like a cake shop without any cakes.
Like a cornflake box without any flakes.
Left all alone in the world,
Like a little orphan girl who’s been neglected.
Feel like I’m cut into two, or bisected.
Slung, flung, tossed through,
Or trajected, treated as though I was infected,
Disrespected—
And rejected…

At first things go okay for the boys, with a moderately successful gig triggering an offer to write a jingle for a ladies’ organic toothpaste commercial. While pondering said offer during an emergency band meeting, they first review their current merchandise line, which includes Jemaine’s self-monogrammed white T-shirt and a pair of Conchords dolls sewn by Bret, featuring strips of cloth cut from the denim button-down Jemaine is also currently wearing. (That is exactly the sort of silly little detail that keeps me coming back for more.) Ditto the ad guy trying to kickstart their brainstorming: “When I saw you guys tonight, I thought, ‘Here’s two men who know exactly what women feel like.’” Which, to be fair, could be interpreted in a number of ways. Although the fact that Martin_Clark has excessively curly locks and an AOL email address should probably have been a tip-off that he’s a tool. Too bad the Conchords don’t do tip-offs.

Still, kudos to their first crack at ladies’ organic toothpaste jingle writing: “Some women like men; some are lesbian. Femident toothpaste…” Also discarded as possible angles: weaving, women’s rights, wrestling in cooking oil on planes (this one from Dave, who I adore, and who knows women, pretty much, although not really and not at all). Also, some but not all of these discarded angles will eventually appear in the final jingle anyway (see below).

In the meantime, Murray’s luck has gone down the inevitable crapper: turns out the Crazy Dogggz, you know, stole “Doggy Bounce” from an equally terrible Polish band. But he won’t give up the dream without first calling the Conchords in for a little video quiz: “This Polish one is what’s known as a cover version. Now, the only problem is, this cover version came out 13 years before the Crazy Dogggz’s original version. So my question to you is: is that bad? Or do you think that’s normal?” Normal, yes? No, they assure him, bad. Very very bad!

He manages to sell the guys his desk just as the repo man comes calling, and the two run into Mel while hauling it out of his fancy office building. She is down on the streets leading a fierce mob in a revolt against the Dogggz (one sign reads “Crazy Dogggs Crazy Liars!” and you can hardly blame them for misspelling in a time of such turmoil). She has also “brought” Doug along with her, although he seems less keen on the slash & burn aspect of the whole affair, especially the part about actually burning CDs. (“Why did you come, Doug, if you didn’t want to light a fire?”) Oh, Doug, you’re the Conchords’ version of Toby Flenderson.

Next B&J visit “Dave’s House of Deals” to drop off the desk and learn the fine art of negotiation using the “Dave double-down technique,” wherein Bret gets suckered into buying a pen he doesn’t want for four times the initial asking pricing of $1.00. (I’ll let you do that math in your head.) And keep your eyes on Jemaine during this scene, because his reactions are priceless.

Then they are off to deliver their jingle, which at an awesome 18 minutes long is a full 17 and 1/2 minutes longer than necessary. (Jemaine: “We thought it would be more of a concept.” Ad Tool: “I know you’re from New Zealand, what is this, ‘Lord of the Rings’?”) Also, the fact that it has nothing to do with toothpaste is a bit of a problem, jingle-wise. But this doesn’t stop Ad Tool from offering the two of them a spot in the actual ad, and the grand total of $1,000 each, which he is able to double down in his own head without any help from them. And just like that, the Conchords are now officially the Femident Boyyyz.

Back on the streets (“Friday”), the guys stumble upon Murray, who has taken up residence in his reliable old Honda. Yikes. He looks more than a little greasy, there’s a pair of underpants draped on the back of the passenger seat, and he is storing office supplies in the glove compartment. Very very bad! And not only do the Conchords not want him back, he also can’t return to the consulate, where he had resigned via a personal letter advising them all to stuff it. “I’m persona non-regates,” he says, which Jemaine helpfully translates as “You’re not at a yacht race.” Correct. And just as Murray is denying, emphatically, that he’s living in his car, his watch alarm sounds to remind him it’s time to move his lodgings before the cops arrive. Still, because he’s Murray, he also takes a moment to admire Bret’s newly woven pants before rolling off. Aw, Murray rocks.

Interior: studio sound stage.
Insert: Femident Toothpaste ad, sung while Bret and Jemaine are stuffed inside two gigantic tubes of toothpaste and costumed, naturally, as toothpaste.
You are a woman, you wear women’s wear.
You have breasts and longish hair, oh yeah.
You’re kind of fun everywhere,
Yet you’re still very rare, oh yeah.
You’re a woman and you love to weave.
You’re a woman, you have women’s needs.
I know you love women’s rights,
You’re a woman with teeth, now take a bite
Of Femident Toothpaste, yeah.
For your feminine dental care,
Oh, Femident Toothpaste,
Femident, Femident, Femident.

However, problems arise in the studio dressing room, when Ad Tool and Ad Tool Female try to collect the Conchords’ work permits in order to process payment. Work permits? Green cards? “Just a card, a greenish card?” asks Bret. Yep. And not a library card, either. It should come as no surprise to anyone that both Bret and Jemaine are, in fact, illegal immigrants, possessing neither work permits nor green cards. Oh dear. They call Murray, who as luck would have it is currently sitting in his car outside the New Zealand consulate, shaving. Preparing to grovel.

Except! As luck would have it again, no one at the consulate was even aware that Murray had quit, or been absent for over seven months, and Greg hands him a couple of phone messages without batting an eyeball. Murray steps into his office to find his own never-delivered letter of resignation sitting on top of his desk, with a Post-It attached: “Attn: Everyone. I’m off—stuff it up your noses! Please read enclosed letter. Signed, Murray Hewitt.” Isn’t that beautiful? He crumples it into a ball before reaching down to give his desk a man-sized Murray hug.

And then it’s off to do some quick thinking at the studio, where he arrives minus Bret and Jemaine’s passports and the aforementioned totally nonexistent work visas. Instead, his first piece of advice is to rehire him as a manager—leading to our first round of “You miss me?” “No.” “A little bit.” of the season—and his second, after they agree, is to run for it. Finally reunited, our three screwballs peel out of the parking lot in the midst of a torrential downpour, which can in no way dampen the sunny and deluded outlook of dear Murray: “I think there’s a guardian angel looking out for us. Someone up there, someone’s looking down, making sure everything turns out okay for us. I’m sure of it.” Well, okay. As long as he’s sure.

Insert: folk music playing
There are angels in the clouds, doing it.
There are angels, doing it doing it doing it doing it, etc., in the clouds.
Behind the shroud of the clouds, fooling around.
In the clouds, they’re lying, feathers flying, angels sighing.
There are angels.
Nobody knows on what goes on under those robes.
Pushing and puffing and huffing and heaving, etc., pushing, puffing, huffing, and heaving in heaven.
Up there, they’re playing the loving game,
Making rain, turning white clouds grey.
Insert choirs of angels singing “Doing it” over and over in bright angelic tones while the winged Conchords strum along on their guitars.