It s easy to imagine them as wandering hobos in an absurdist play by Beckett one with his head in the clouds, the other devilish and down to earth. As usual, a gang of misfits must band together to fight an uppercrust adversary. To outsiders, the villagers behave oddly. With each other, they expect conformity. Lovers normally decree unconditional affection.
Money is the sweetest perfume.
Maybe that s why Ned passed away with a grin of Cheshire proportions. It s who collects the cash.