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Clips from Archer - The Figgis Agency (S07E07)

Short Films 1975 Season 7, Episode 1 7 min 458 clips

Episodes from this show

Well, what do you think?
I think that in my next life
I'm gonna come back as a movie star.
Yeah, look out, gay porn.
Rimshot. Yeah, that could be your name.
So what, some movie star lives here?
Veronica Deane. Can you believe it?
No shit. You like her?
What, as an actress or for this homicide?
Both. Well, it's been a while
since I've seen her in anything, but man,
she was incredible in Shanghai Moon.
Oh, my God, that dress. Oh, bejeezles, right?
See if she knows who tried to weight him down--
with an ounce of lead.
Found it on the ground over there by the table.
Is it hers? Hard to tell with no serial number.
Probably why they put 'em on there. Rimshot.
You should ask Veronica Deane
if her agent reps gay porn stars.
And maybe if she murdered this guy.
You got a real knack for this. Thanks.
And him? They say that as of midnight
the pool did not contain a dead waiter.
Okay, so...
let's get some unis on the gates,
front, backside, whatever. Nobody in or out.
And while we wait for the M.E.,
Rim Schott. How was that funny?
No, as my gay porn name.
You know--
Rim Schott.
Right?
It's not that bad.
No, on the contrary, it's wonderful.
If you enjoy starving to death.
Oh, please, Mother.
The only thing you eat is cocktail onions.
I simply cannot believe
I let you talk me into this boondoggle!
Not just me. Lana?
Okay, me too. A little.
But only because the CIA blacklisted us.
Plus now with A.J.
I thought it would be safer than being a spy.
It's safer than being a librarian!
Three months and not a single client.
the world's greatest former secret agent,
has his own frickin' detective agency--
Which technically, you do not.
Because California is assholes.
What have I been saying? Something about bears.
for California deciding that a stupid law degree--
And a B.A. in Criminal Justice.
Shut up. Somehow qualifies an otherwise total idiot
or you, or Ray, or you, Lana,
couldn't work as an investigator under my license.
And you can be sure that the minute...
Wait, the second I qualify for my P.I. license,
this is the Archer Agency.
Fair enough. So let's circle back
when you have 2,000 hours of investigative work
certified by your licensed employer, who is me.
Cyril-- And... go!
2,000 hours?
At this rate-- Mother, we will get clients.
All we need is one high-profile case.
And some kick-ass advertising.
Give me that.
I will personally sew you into a canvas bag
full of rats and throw that bag into the river.
I gotta go get my car smogged!
What river? It's a concrete slab.
The headline there was a bag of rats.
Here's a headline. Malory Archer bankrupt.
Feckless Son to Blame. Look--
And even if we get a case,
what, some cheating husband, fake whiplash?
The whole thing is just so...grubby!
- Grubby? Grubby?! - Excuse me.
Prove it. I can't!
Uh, excuse me? Because Krieger chopped him up,
and then we stuffed him in trash cans
all over four different boroughs.
Well, then. Wait. Four?
I'm not schlepping to Staten Island
in the middle of the goddamn night.
Hey!
Jesus, lady, earballs!
Is this the Figgis Agency?
Well, we're not married to that, but--
Yes, we are.
And yes, it is.
Hello, Cyril Figgis. Owner, CEO,
and fully licensed private investigator.
Veronica Deane.
The movie star?!
Ugh. May we talk somewhere...else?
Blackmail. I'm afraid so.
You see, my home was burgled recently,
and in addition to cash and some jewelry,
they stole a computer disk with, I suppose
you might call it, sensitive information?
It's nine o'clock in the morning.
I'm still on Eastern time.
Archer. It's lunchtime there.
Yesterday, a lawyer named Alan Shapiro contacted me.
He said he was in possession of the disk
and wished to arrange its return.
For a fee.