Downloaded from YTS.MX
Official YIFY movies site: YTS.MX
Smoke?
You with that blowhard?
That blowhard is my buddy. A solid guy.
- See you soon, Mr. Omodo. - No way.
Dude!
Sorry.
I'm seriously sorry, man.
I was a foot away from wiping that guy out.
Dude!
You've gotten big!
Let's get out of this shithole.
Babtou's free again!
Incredible!
I was on the ground floor. There was no air at all. Nothing.
Two years, man.
- Get rid of that fucking TV. - Get off!
- Leave my TV alone. - I got you a flat-screen.
- What's up with you? I'm keeping it. - Fine, but put it away...
From now on, there's only one way to go: I'm going to live, dude!
Crazy. Haven't been here for so long.
Semih!
Dude!
They still letting you run free?
- You got out? - What's happening?
- Babo is back! - Yo, Matsch, what's up?
Brother!
Woah, what happened, brother? Twice around the sun and look at you!
- What's up? - This is my cousin Paco.
Get out of the goddamn way!
- What's your problem? - Can we get out of the goddamn way?
I don't think so!
Honk quieter! And you? Louder!
Street ballet, brothers. One dance for the road.
- Babs! When did you get out? - Sahadi!
Great to see you.
Guys, come here! It's time...
for a toast! A toast!
To the best, cutest, most loyal man this shithole's ever produced!
Guys, the cops. Dennis, the cops.
Dude, you wanna die? Get your prosecco fingers off my car.
Shut it.
Guys, the cops!
Shut the hell up, he's on parole!
Dennis, the cops!
- Your ID, sir. - It's alright, officer.
We were just discussing the right of way.
Hey, stop!
Stay where you are.
I don't know these people, officer.
Hey, Dennis!
Say hi to Manu. Is her pussy piercing still infected?
What did you say about my girlfriend?
I'd rather fuck my exhaust!
Stop it!
Hey, I'm out.
Fucking bastard!
Freeze!
On the ground!
- Hands up! - He didn't do anything!
- It's OK! - Quiet!
We haven't seen each other for a while.
Have a nice break?
Don't you have to let me call my lawyer first?
Why?
You think we want to lock you up?
Don't you?
No. Not at all. Right, colleagues?
No, no.
Mr. Omodo? You've been in Germany for quite a while.
How long, Ms. Zeug?
- 25 years. - 25 years? Wow!
Let's say we've hosted you for a long time.
And we've had fun, hm?
Partied, drunk, danced...
Sometimes a bit too much.
But even the best party has to end.
So if you keep dancing on my coffee table instead of leaving voluntarily,
then...
- Can I get my passport back? - You mean "residency permit?"
Unfortunately not.
Instead, we'll give you
a border crossing certificate,
which you can use to return to Senegal in the coming weeks.
I'm sure Senegal is terribly interesting.
Papa!
Mamdu!
Why's that African in my bed?
Babtou?
- You're a free man? - Yeah.
- You sure? - Sure.
That's good.
Who's that?
What can I say? He made it here. I don't know how.
He's seeking asylum.
Like Mama and I back then.
Is there a problem?
All good. Go back to bed.
Babtou!
Please, don't fuck up.
Take care, Papa.
- That guy was in jail! - He's my best friend.
I've known him for 20 years. Should I put him in the garage?
- You've slept there when you're drunk. - But he's not drunk.
- Sure... - What? We celebrated his release.
Right! So after two years he thought, why not go back to jail?
Right, let's begin.
After Mr. Omodo followed his accomplice,
who was masked by a motorcycle helmet and heavily intoxicated,
Mr. Omodo left the betting shop with 327 Euros cash.
Because of his distinctive appearance, the culprit was soon arrested.
The sentence was heavily affected by Mr. Omodo's refusal
to reveal his accomplice's identity.
Fine.
And last week you were released and re-arrested on the same day?
For blocking an intersection with your friends
and assaulting the police, correct?
Correct, yes.
- And now? - "And now?"
- Appeal it. - Appeal it? Brilliant!
On what grounds?
- I'm German. - But your passport isn't.
- It's from Senegal. - He doesn't know anything else.
He's visited his aunt in Paris twice. That's it. He was fucking born here!
In Germany, he's not a German just because he was born here.
- Could you get to the point? - The point is:
It doesn't look good for you.
Fantastic.
Maybe I can push this around the courts for a few months, but otherwise...
What kind of lawyer are you?
Otherwise the best you can do is marry a German citizen.
Abi!
- Another kebab. - With sauce?
Definitely.
- Where'd you learn Turkish? - It's the official language in prison.
And I love girls in headscarves.
Then help me with some names.
- Which ones do we have already? - Until now: Leyla, Samirah,
Mara, Julie, Bigosh,
Lily...
- Janine Haessler. - Oh, man.
"In the red corner, weighing 225 pounds"
"the world champion of the heavyweights..."
Dennis, stop it! You're such a dick.
Behave!
If all else fails, ask Janine Haessler.
- You kidding? - She liked you in eighth grade.
- That was 15 years ago, Dennis. - Just do it.
No, man.
Isn't that Sahadi?
What are you doing? Don't run up on the cops.
Let go of me, man.
- Seven grams is a lot for one joint. - Depends on how you roll it.
Fuck, Babtou!
- Since when do cops bully you? - That'll be the day.
What'd you do?
- You don't want to know. - Sahadi...
Sorry, officer. Our mom is sick. We have to talk, please.
Thanks.
- What's up? - Can I sleep at your place tonight?
Dude, I'm on parole.
- The place is yours for six months. - Keys?
You'll have to grab them.
- Thanks. Take care. - See you.
Thanks.
God loves me!
I won't burn your place down, Papa. If anything, I'll blow up the whole block.
See you in two weeks.
- What you looking at? Want a photo? - No.
Who the hell was that?
Ooh, Sahadi!
Because the emperor's arm was short from birth,
he tried to compensate for this handicap with courage and achievements.
His need for recognition was great: He thought he knew everything better.
He fired Bismarck as advisor
and surrounded himself with courtiers who didn't dare oppose him.
What do you want?
To see you again, baby.
Just wait. I've been doing a lot of thinking.
Must've been amazing.
What do you mean?
Think about it.
Is the kid's papa here, too?
- Sorry. - Why?
For telling your asshole friends you finally had a virgin?
Or for my brother receiving naked pictures of me?
Those pictures are beautiful.
I was gone for a while, and every night,
every single night, I dreamt of you.
- We slept together once while drunk. - I know, but...
I realized how much it meant to me.
So,
I wanted to ask
if you'd marry me.
- Dude, we need cash. - Easy.
I have some.
How much?
50 bucks?
I need a wife.
How?
I'll buy one. Can't be that hard.
You know what a fake marriage costs?
Dude, I'm a trainee. I can't just borrow 5,000 euros.
Back in a minute.
- W-w-what's up? - What's up, bro?
Hi there.
Sweetheart?
We agreed: no gangsters in our place.
Relax, p-p-please.
We're on the b-b-balcony, aren't we?
Women, right?
We gotta talk.
So?
Semih, I need five grand. Preferably seven.
What?
Five grand, man?
Y-y-you know how much a ch-ch-child costs, dude?
You at least got weed I can sell?
Weed?
Brother, t-t-times have changed.
B-big business, dude.
D-d-double apple, brother?
Apricot, brother. Apricot.
Look at the gangster. I was worried about you.
Welcome.
Sit down.
I'm glad you're here. As a free man.
What brings you here?
B-Babtou needs cash.
Or he wanted
w-weed.
Does it look like I sell weed? A grass dealer?
Listen, Cengo. I need to invest in my future.
I get it.
But Babtou, drug stuff doesn't work now. No one wants to be a dealer.
You been to the park?
Look at what's going on.
Crazy.
Your boat people are fighting the Arabs for a bit of turf.
Just imagine.
I've got another business model now. You know?
These.
This stuff makes cash.
- Counterfeit designer labels. - So you're a tailor now?
If anyone here wants champagne, we all drink champagne.
If someone here needs cocaine,
I call my lawyer,
and he brings it.
OK, Cengo. What's your offer? You want us to rob Woolworth's?
You do the ironing.
But first, shut your mouth when I'm talking.
But you, Babtou?
I'm happy to help. I'll make you an offer. A gentlemanly one.
You can work for me.
A four-week trial, and if you behave, you get cash.
Then straight to the next level: by my side, if you like.
Just do one thing.
Kiss the watch.
Kiss the watch and we have a deal.
Hey, Janine.
Can I come in?
No.
Well, I've been thinking a lot.
About the past and all that.
- Do you have a visitor? - No.
- Do we have to discuss this in the hall? - Sure.
Like I said, I've thought a lot
- about your letter. - What letter?
The one about your dream. That we were...
in the girl's toilet.
- You need money? - What? No!
What?
Could you imagine...
I love you.
- Are you high? - What?
No!
You're serious?
Wait there, OK?
Just a sec.
Say it again, please.
- What? - I want to hear it again.
I want it on record, you know?
I love you.
- Can I come in now? - No.
Check YouTube tomorrow:
"Loser Gets Rejected."
What?
So great!
I was just at Haessler' s. Fucking un-be-liev-able.
What happened?
This is the worst day of my life. You said she's looking for a man?
- Relax. - How?
She better not publish it!
- I don't understand... - Your fucking idea was stupid!
I'm suing that bitch!
Fucking bitch!
Who's the bitch?
I didn't even mean you!
When I hear this song, I imagine our little house.
My parents are still alive...
Oh, you won't understand.
I do. I know what homesickness is. I was captured in Africa.
- Sorry, I didn't know. - Don't worry.
I almost like this song.
- Why? - Because it belongs to the two of us...
What's up?
You feeling better now?
Listen, we've been going about this all wrong.
Here it is in black and white.
"Purring pussycat in search of black panther for wild adventures."
Dennis, I won't be a 60-year-old's toy boy.
Hey, don't you have a trash can?
We'll make sure you can stay.
We have trash cans for paper in Germany. This isn't the Congo.
Want me to come down, sidewalk fascist?
Oh shit. Here. Sorry.
Get your cum rag out of here! Go away!
It's not cum. It's not.
It's my tears and your blood. Now let me see.
- What kind of a gay line is that? - What?
I asked if you're gay.
What?
Don't you get it?
You and me. Me and you.
Me and you?
You and me.
You gotta be kidding.
Do I look like I'm kidding?
What kind of retard are you?
I didn't quite catch that, Mr. Wolters.
You may now exchange rings.
And now you may kiss.
I now declare you husband and husband.
Open the door.
Did you get drunk, too?
Stomach bug or something?
Probably.
What's with the ring?
Oh, yeah...
Well...
- Good morning, Mr. Omodo. - Wolters.
Yes, Mr. Wolters.
- Is your husband here, too? - Why?
We have questions regarding your marriage.
How's that your business?
It's our business, because the German state doesn't like being shitted.
May we come in?
Do you have a search warrant?
We... No.
Amateurs.
15 cm lower and you'll run aground leaving the garage.
- Whatever, bro. Can you do it or not? - Sure.
Yo, bro.
- You good? - I called you five times, dude.
- I'm working. - Hey! What's going on?
Gangster meetings outside business hours.
- This is a job, Siggi. - What job?
L-lowered suspension.
Lowered suspension! Yeah, makes sense.
We don't want your 75 horsepower catching air and flying away, right?
- Exactly. - 280.
Keep the change.
In an hour?
No, two days. Scram. We gotta work.
We want to remain a respectable family business, OK?
- Sure. - Papa?
- Mr. Ott is on the phone. - Mr. Ott...
His car failed inspection because of your exhaust.
Because he never told me...
- Give me that. - One moment.
Take the day off.
Right. You want me to cook lunch and do your nails, too?
It got worse.
One more time: We fell in love in primary school, OK?
Our first kiss was on the field trip, by the Coke machine.
- And our first time? - In juvenile detention, two days later.
Mr. Wolters, please.
No, I meant you. Please follow me.
You come with me.
So, Mr. Wolters...
Just so you know what this is about:
Fake marriages are punishable by up to a year in prison.
And you, as a German,
essentially don't have anything to gain.
Right?
Good.
May I ask why you and your partner don't have the same address?
Well, I was just...
Two weeks ago...
- Right, released from prison. - Exactly.
And I just got the place.
- But you do intend to live together? - Yes.
He was just released two weeks ago.
But you intend to live together?
What would you say your partner...
Husband.
What would you say your husband cares about most?
Cars, motorbikes...
- Clothes, respect, muchachas... - Sorry, what?
I didn't get that.
Nothing.
M-u-c-h-a-c-h-a-s...
- Your husband's favorite dish? - He's not fussy.
Instant soup. Fries with ketchup.
- Who cooks in your household? - That's me.
Him.
His food isn't edible.
What was the first gift you gave him?
- Brass knuckles. - Brass knuckles?
- Brass knuckles. - Silver, with a skull on it.
- With four letters on it. - What letters?
ACAB. All Cops Are Bastards.
Who proposed?
I did.
- And how? - Got down on my knee.
How romantic.
Yeah, in his apartment.
- Was it nice? - Very much so.
It was romantic.
Ro-man-tic.
Do you get along with his parents?
I get along well with his father.
Sadly, his mother died young.
Maybe that's why he's not good with women.
- How's your relationship with women? - To be honest,
I've always had problems with them.
Nothing against you personally,
just in general.
Super. Now I know. Thank you.
Oh, Mr. Wolters.
One last question, if you don't mind.
How often do you have sex?
Excuse me?
How often do you do your black African partner?
Or does he do you?
Three times?
Per night.
About once.
A week.
Right.
Thanks.
Once a week? Something's wrong with your brain.
Calm down.
No way. We just got married. Men like us don't fuck once a week, Dennis!
We bang every night.
Maybe bums like you, but I have a job, idiot!
What you looking at? Never seen a gay man?
- What now? - Pack your things and move in.
Fuck you. I've had enough.
- You? - That's right. I'm not your toy boy.
What kind of talk is that?
Amundsen and Scott: two great explorers.
Courageous trailblazers.
True pioneers.
Loser!
- What's wrong with you? - Sorry.
Dennis, calm down.
That was the dyke who beat me up.
- You can't grab my ass. - She'll kick me in the balls again.
And those Stasi wannabes ask the neighbors.
Have you lost it?
Listen, the officials are sure to visit. It can't be a shithole.
So they'll see a glowing dick and think, "Wow, that's authentic!"
The joint.
Come on, just a drag.
- A drag? Hang on. - Just put it in my mouth.
Here.
I'll get him.
No, no, fuck!
- Man, that was your fault. - Give me that.
Go wash the dishes.
Go on, do it.
- And bring me a beer. - What?
Beer!
Beer, beer, beer... Get it yourself, asshole.
I'm not your fucking servant.
You got a corkscrew?
I've told you 100 times to put up the toilet seat.
No idea.
Come in.
Doesn't look like it.
I can open it. Wait.
Cool.
Don't talk to me like that again. I'm not your bitch.
How's it going?
So-so.
- Cool. Oh. - Sorry.
So...
I've cooked some food, invited friends over...
- Wanna come? - Absolutely.
Cool.
Are you kidding me?
What? I'm hungry.
Do you do that for a living?
Drumming?
Great idea. Why are you laughing?
Sorry, my star. You're an amazing drummer.
I could be.
Your rhythmic talents lie elsewhere.
Simon! That was too much information!
How long have you been married?
Just now. It's still fresh.
And you?
We're not married.
Asylum.
I'll show you a magic trick.
Simon is everything:
a musician, a magician...
And he's Mr. Unforgettable!
Time for transcendental relationship analysis based on bio-resonance, OK?
Pay attention. I need a hair from each of you.
One hair. Put it in the pan.
I need a transmitter. Darling, pass me the salt.
Come here. All of you.
You, too. Especially you two.
Look, you see that? See that?
Great food, crazy people.
Dress up a bit.
- All good? - Sure.
Two shots and two beers.
Thanks.
- This is too much. - Pull yourself together.
Hey, sweeties.
Awesome, thanks!
Come with me.
I should've punched that door woman.
She had a Gucci face and Melania Trump grin.
Pissed me off.
I think Melania's a sweet, tragic figure.
One question: What's wrong with being romantic?
Almost empty.
What are you looking at?
You've got the bluest eyes I've ever seen.
- They're brown! - What?
They're brown!
And on we go!
No, get off me.
Dear man, show some love, alright?
- Come on, stand up. - No, give me a sec.
- This way? - No, that way.
Hey transies, go back where you came from.
That's our plan.
- What you looking at? - Forget those idiots.
No, wait.
What you looking at?
You want me to fuck you in your slutty mouth?
Don't laugh when we humiliate you, dyke cunt.
That's right, fucking lesbo.
Come to Daddy.
You go home to Mommy and grab your penis pump.
- Forget it. - Why, man?
They've got no balls.
Holy shit.
Babtou.
You look like butt-fuckers.
And you look like hand-fuckers.
Come on, let's go.
That bitch almost knocked out my tooth.
I'm gonna fuck that whore.
- Still got your tooth? - Of course.
- Then stop whining. - It hurts, man.
You're the baddest bitch I've ever seen.
Fuck off.
You sent that guy flying.
- Breakfast? - Yeah, come on, breakfast.
- Dennis? Breakfast? - I'm going to bed.
- Good night. - Night.
How do you know such morons?
Friend of a friend of a friend.
You need new friends.
What's he singing?
"Come, if you want to stay with me."
"Come, as long as we're still young."
"Fill my nights with colors."
How do you say that?
- Good night. - Good night.
- I'm going to my husband. - Yeah.
Hands off!
It's not for you.
Not for me?
We weren't hungry anymore.
Seriously?
Make your own breakfast. I'm not your maid.
You got a crush on that dyke?
Shut it.
I don't know... You marry your homie.
And now you're dreaming of a woman who almost made you infertile.
My fertility is intact, OK?
Stay away, butt-fucker!
- Want me to come down? - No, you're disgusting.
Send down your lesbian friend. She lives here, doesn't she?
- We need to sort something out. - None of your business who's here.
You've entered the gay zone? Bab-t-t-tuuuu...
- Get out of the street. - You got a problem?
Come on.
- We just want to get past. - Get on with it.
The immigration pig.
Listen, fuckface!
I'll grab my rubber gloves and come down.
- No, I'll cum when I bang you. - What do you losers want?
Apart from me fucking that dyke, Cengo wants a word with Babtou.
The warehouse at 8 p.m.
She'll be the one fucking you. And tell Cengo we'll be there.
Who's talking to you, pussy? Just Cengo and Babtou.
Please, don't do this.
What? You scared for your loser friends?
- No, but two cops are coming up. - So?
I'm in trouble.
FAGGITS
- Hello. - Hello.
You think we're stupid? You write "faggits" and...
That wasn't me. I can spell in German.
- Can we come in today? - Sure!
If there's a spray can in your apartment, you'll be on the next plane.
Follow me.
What a lovely apartment you have!
And it's wonderful how open you are about your homosexuality.
Thanks.
But we were surprised no one at the prison had any idea.
You think I'd show it there?
"You fucking turnkey faggot."
That was on January 13th last year, reported by Mr. Dechow.
Then a memo from Mr. Kantis:
"Stick your key up your worn-out a-hole, where you like it best."
That was on June 12th, just two weeks prior to your release.
Those were your statements.
Put yourself in my shoes for five seconds, Mr. Ruppert.
You alone in prison.
Surrounded by undersexed animals.
With your athletic figure.
Your soft skin.
And almond eyes.
And your manly voice.
Mr. Wolters, is your father still living
in Reichenberger Street?
And who's your employer again?
Why?
Your social background.
We check your background, so...?
Siggi's Garage.
Found it.
Good, we're done here.
Thanks.
Wait, I'll join you.
I have a suspension to lower.
Please go ahead.
Good afternoon. Is this your neighbor's handwriting?
My gay friends are threatened and you ask if they wrote it themselves?
- Could you lower your voice? - No, I won't!
- This chat is over. - Nothing is over here...
He'll be fined for that.
He'll definitely be fined!
Siggi!
- Baby, I can... - ... explain? Go on.
The ring?
Your clothes?
The graffiti?
- The glitter on your face? - What graffiti?
On the gate!
Go on, explain.
- I gotta talk to Siggi. - Great, thanks.
Baby, it's not what you think!
You're so hollow.
Listen.
Mr. Wolters!
You'll be getting a stern letter from the Department of Transportation.
Hello, Astrid Zeug, Immigration. And you are?
The surrogate mother.
Surrogate mother?
Yeah, some idiot knocked me up and took off.
Then I remembered the gay mechanic who works for Papa.
He always wanted a kid, so I sold it to him.
Better than an abortion, right?
Are you aware that the law prohibits...
Fly out of my yard, little birdies.
- Hang on. - No way. My daughter had a breakdown.
You're on private property without a court order.
- Hit the road! - What?
Or I'll stuff you under the hood!
Watch your language!
You're done, too.
Dennis, your day is done.
You've always done whatever you wanted.
You've never followed rules.
Got into fights. Skipped school.
Sold drugs.
And now you want to marry a white, ugly boy.
I already married him.
If you stand still, I'll explain.
Shut your mouth.
When I said you should try to fit in,
I meant you should fit in:
Be a normal boy. Find a good wife.
- And a good job. - Like you, yeah?
OK, get out.
Get out!
Sorry, Papa. I'll explain one day.
One day. Right now I don't want to know.
Dennis, you moron, come down.
Shut up and get some fucking beer.
I still don't get it. Why surrogate mother?
She's pregnant.
I figured that, but why surrogate mother?
She was covering for us, idiot.
You should've seen her.
She was amazing.
She saved our asses after I lied to her face.
- What now? - I'm gonna be a father.
I'm gonna be a father!
We'll manage, dude.
"We..."
Right. "We."
OK, Dennis, listen. Go to Manu and tell her...
Go to Manu and say I forced you, OK?
Exaggerate a bit, think of something.
And you?
I'll deal with Cengo.
What if it's a trap and he turns up with his gorillas?
If he's a snake and brings the whole block, I'll take them all out.
Go to your family, man.
Sic 'im.
Sic 'im!
Was just a joke.
Wasn't funny?
Leave him alone. He didn't find it funny.
You shouldn't hurt them in training, but I'm old school.
Aren't you more primary school?
Let's take a walk.
Great country, isn't it?
I mean, look at it.
It is what it is.
It's like clockwork.
I love that about it.
Everything: bankers, trucks, bums, niggas.
Big wheels turn left and small ones right, but at the end of the day,
Germany rules.
You know why?
Everyone has their place.
And insulting my boys with those dyke cunts in a park isn't yours.
Is that so?
Listen. I don't give a shit who fucks who.
But my boys do.
They need to draw a line.
If I turn around and say, "Be tolerant, leave the faggots alone,"
know what happens?
My whole goddamn operation ceases.
You know what, Cengo?
Know what I like here?
That you have the freedom to say, "No."
"I'm out."
You don't have to be part of any fucking clockwork.
It was enlightening to chat without the hysteria of the streets.
Showtime.
Hey, dirty little bastard!
Bring it on, you homophobic pissers. Who's first? Come on!
What do you want?
Fuck him up, man!
Hey! I'm OK
Don't worry
I'm just fine
Give me some weed.
Gimme a smoke, dude.
- Weed. - Dennis?
Cut the cripple shit.
Here you go.
Why didn't you say so?
- What's that? - Hash oil.
Hash oil?
I need to...
- ... vomit? - Vomit.
Wait.
I'm coming.
Wait.
Are you OK?
Got any water?
What beautiful flowers!
Smell great!
I appreciate you coming as a state representative.
I really didn't expect that from the immigration authorities.
I wanted to apologize, Mr. Wolters.
For what?
For underestimating your relationship and its consequences.
Then apologize to my husband.
I'm sorry.
As for your residency status, Mr. Wolters,
please come by our office next week.
What for?
We'd like to hand over your residency permit.
Right.
Surprise me on the toilet again and I'll charge you with harassment.
Congratulations.
Assholes.
Screw them. Doesn't matter.
Salaam alaikum, Abi.
- What are you drinking? - Coke.
Fanta.
A Coke, a Fanta and an airan.
Don't spit, sister. Swallow.
Can I have your chili?
Enough. Pack up your cripple and fuck off.
Open your mouth one more time
and you'll never swallow again.
W-w-we just want to eat our k-k-kebab in peace, right?
Right?
Clean it up.
There's still some on your cheek.
- Eat, brother. - Excuse us, please.
Eat.
Right over left, once under,
and then through...
Papa, I have to go.
No, I won't let them bring me down.
Is that your style?
It's quarter to nine, you know?
What's up?
You want a photo?
No.
Come on. Can't you cheer up a bit?
After 27 years, the Federal Republic of Germany
- is honoring you with a residency permit. - After Dennis was nearly killed.
That's not your fault.
Yara, we need to talk.
We have to go, don't we?
Come on.
Let's go.
You're a gay man, now behave like one.
Watch out.
Habibi, come here. How are you?
Yara, too.
Why the long face, darling? You don't love me now that I'm crippled?
Hands off my husband.
I'm the surrogate mother.
- How are you, bro? - Yeah, good.
- Excited? - A bit.
It'll be fine. Let's go get your passport.
Alright.
See you, guys.
Good morning, Mr. Ruppert.
Good morning, Mr. Wolters.
Good morning, Ms. Zeug.
Hello, Mr. Omodo.
Mr. Wolters, you've committed a crime
under Paragraph 95 of the Residency Act.
Excuse me?
"Loser Gets Rejected."
Now.
Say it again.
That. I want to hear it again. I want it on record.
I love you.
Mr. Omodo, we've both seen a lot,
but we've never seen this level of criminal energy.
If you confess, at least you'll help your friend.
Wait, can you explain what this is about?
Of course. Three weeks ago, your husband proposed to several women.
Because he lost a bet.
Two weeks ago, he had a spontaneous coming-out and married his school friend
who's lived with a "surrogate mother" for six months.
Go ask the surrogate mother. She's right out there.
Don't make things worse.
Do you really want your girlfriend to give birth while you're in prison?
Let it go, Dennis. It's over.
Shut up, yeah? This is bullshit.
I love this man.
- Some people never learn. - OK, we're going.
- Sit down! - What do you mean, sit down?
Don't treat us like criminals.
I love him, he loves me. We love each other.
I have no time for this. Take Mr. Omodo away.
What? You can't do this! Hands off!
Leave my friend alone!
Man is born free, but everywhere he's in chains, huh?
Karma fucks everyone.
What are you doing?
- Calm down. - I need to speak to my friend.
Leave her alone!
- Hands off! - Take your hands off her!
I just want to talk to him!
Hands off my friend, pigs!
- I thought you're coming Saturday. - Today is Saturday.
I wanted to pick you up.
I didn't clean up.
No problem, man.
I had the address.
And with my perfect French,
finding this place was a piece of cake.
Want a drink?
Yes, please.
I've only got water.
Water's OK.
- Thanks. - Come and sit down.
How's Manu, man?
- It's going to be a boy. - Really?
A boy.
Way to go.
You have no idea.
Two weeks of fighting over a name. She likes "Elias."
- Elias? - Elias! What kind of name is that?
Would you want your godson to be called Elias?
Seriously?
I'll love him even if his name's Elias.
Stand up.
Come on, stand up.
Why don't they call you Babtou here?
They call me Toubab, man.
- "The White Man." - What?
All good.
Listen, let's get some good food.
What do you eat here?
What about "soupe de mouton?" Sheep's head soup!
The food's OK here. You want fish?
Let's get some "thioff."
After that, we're cleaning this mess up.
- I have to take a piss. - Around the corner.
Oh, right.
From you?
No.
Can we get out of this shithole?
We can.