All the Easter Eggs I Found in Good Omens Season 2,
When “Easter eggs” are done right, they can be delicious. There were quite a few in the last season of Good Omens, so I thought I’d round up all the ones I saw. Like a treasure hunt for your brain!
Obviously, it’s possible that this wasn’t on purpose, but that’s part of what makes hunting fun – not everything refers to being smart, and sometimes, they are often accidental. Play, people!
Dick-in-a-box (All the Easter Eggs I Found in Good Omens Season 2)
See, a joke where a nude actress has various designs placed in front of her nether regions to avoid a full face note is a classic example of cinematic stupidity. (See: Austen Powers, et al.) But the fact that Jon Hamm walks down the street in Soho with only a cardboard box protecting his modesty will remind people of the infamous show. Lonely Island SNL “Dick in a Box. with Justin Timberlake. .
It might even be funny if you’re a fan of the good news before the show – in the book it’s suggested that angels don’t have parts unless they “do effort,” but Gabriel is doing well once the box is stopped. . , judging by the reaction of the public. Aziraphale is not good. And no, we will not make any jokes about how it is Jon Hamm, not that he dreams, Aziraphale should be lucky: he is the old boss, y’all. No one deserves this.
There’s a point where Aziraphale is reminiscing about the events in the Book of Job, and when he comes back to himself, Gabriel has to tell him that Crowley departed while he was zoned out. This is almost identical to a scene in the BBC’s Sherlock when Irene Adler has to inform Sherlock that John Watson left their flat while he was deep in thought. (He does that a lot, you see. I imagine Aziraphale does, too, albeit in a kinder way.)
There are plenty of references to the past, but season two takes it up a notch by casting Peter Davison, the Fifth Doctor and David Tennant’s stepfather, as the biblical character Job. (Tennant’s son, Ty, also appears as his grandfather’s son, Ennon, which adds to the twist.) And then there’s the fly that Beelzebub gives to Gabriel, which is “the weight inside “ like the TARDIS.
While it’s tempting to imagine Crowley wearing a fez in the magic shop around the corner from Aziraphale’s bookshop is another Whovian book – always, in the words of the Eleventh Doctor, ” cool fez” – c t is most likely referred to. British actor Tommy Cooper, who is famous for wearing a fez as he entertains the public in semi-straight, semi-heavy numbers. Perhaps Cooper got his signature fez from this show; it has been around for a long time.
The Book of Aziraphale by occult teacher Mr. Hoffman is written in a neat note and signature that reads “The Hoff”. But as we all know, the only person allowed to call himself The Hoff is David Hasselhoff, of Knight Rider and Baywatch..
When Aziraphale confronts two curious men in a Scottish graveyard, one of them makes a killing spree of tattoos, including a forehead that features a viral internet sensation discovered in a collection of tattoos that spell fake – which “No Record” is read in bold. , Black ink This leaves many questions, the main one being: is this man the only bad musician in the universe of Good Omens? Or is it a deliberate referential tattoo, thus belying a great inner complexity that a particular guy is eager to put back in public?
Misspellings always being good for comedy is also what leads the (terribly small) legion of demons commanded by Shax to throw a wood plank through Aziraphale’s bookshop window—demanding that he give up the “angle” Gabriel to the forces of Hell. But this particular mistake is a familiar one, put to use by a newspaperman known for typos in Hot Fuzz. Sergeant Nicholas Angel gets razzed by Sanford citizens and coworkers all day for that one.
Care to Explain That Suit?
This isn’t exactly an Easter egg, but I needed to point it out somewhere for my own sanity: Aziraphale prompts a few miraculous wardrobe changes for anyone who is not “appropriately” dressed for his Austen-ian ball in episode five, but there’s something funny happening with Gabriel. Namely, before the party ever occurs, he’s dressed in clothes that likely belong to Aziraphale himself: They’re all in his usual colors and styles, after all, and it would make sense to start handing “Jim” anything he had packed away once it became clear that he was going to be hanging around for a while…
…so we’re gonna have to talk about that bedazzled powder blue suit (and fluffy cloak), I think. Because, chances are, these are also sourced from Aziraphale’s old/unused clothing. I know he’s not one for bebop, so it’s unlikely that he kept it in storage from an Elton John concert. Maybe Aziraphale was subbing in for Liberace? I need to know.
When the Metatron goes to get a coffee at Nina’s shop, he asks her if anyone ever asks for death—a reference to the name of the establishment: Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death! But it also puts one in mind of Suzy Izzard’s stand-up routine Dress to Kill, where she suggests that the Church of England might offer supplicants the option of “cake or death” being far less efficient than the Spanish Inquisition.
There are a few carefully placed callbacks to the Good Omens source material in season two, which are always fun to pick out…
- The Book Itself
As Gabriel is shelving books—alphabetically, by first word in first sentence—in Aziraphale’s shop, he comes across many-a-classic, including Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, and Iain Banks’ The Crow Road. But he also comes across a book with the first line “It was a nice day.” This is, of course, the opening of Good Omens the novel. Hamm’s thoughtful, instinctually touched reading of the line is enough to make any fan a little teary.
- Bullet Hole Decals
They weren’t visible last season, but in season two, Crowley’s James Bond bullet-hole-through-the-windows decals can be plainly spotted on his beloved car. These are brought up rather pointedly in the book because Bond’s first car in the Fleming novels is a 1930 Blower Bentley, only a few years off from Crowley’s 1926 model, which seems to have tickled the demon a whole bunch. Because Crowley is supposed to project “cool,” but he’s really just a great big nerd. He had to buy petrol (a thing he never does) for the Bentley to get the decals and everything.
- How Exactly Do You Pronounce Aziraphale?
When the demon Furfur corners Aziraphale and Crowley about their collaboration in 1941 after setting a trio of Nazi zombies on their tail, he gloats to them both of his victory. Or, at least, he tries to: Crowley doesn’t seem to remember the guy he fought against heaven alongside, much to the underling’s dismay. He keeps trying, though, insisting that he knows all about Crowley’s little partnership with—he literally checks his notes—Azizaraph. Azirapapa. Azirpail.
This is a wink toward the fact that, until the series premiered, the pronunciation of Aziraphale’s name was one of the most prominent questions fans had for Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. No joke, there was genuine discourse around this, discussion of angelic naming conventions and so forth. There was the suggestion that both authors had given different answers; that there had been one pronunciation decided upon beforehand, but that it didn’t seem to catch on, and the authors had given up. Even within the show there’s a bit of a discrepancy, with some characters pronouncing it “Azira-fell” versus “Azira-fail” (though that could largely be an accent issue, which is fascinating all by itself). Watching Furfur fumble over it several times was a nice little shoutout to those of us who have struggled with it for decades.
There are also several glaring references to Gaiman’s departed coauthor and dear friend, Terry Pratchett. And they’re all so good…
- “A Really —ing Terrible Idea”
It’s possible that this is just a coincidence of line reading, but when angel!Crowley notes that someone ought to be able to tell God when they’re making the wrong calls, he puts it as “Boss, this is a really —ing terrible idea.” Saying the ‘ing’ without the distinct curse attached was common of one Mr. Tulip, half of the New Firm found in the The Truth.
- Capital Letters
When Aziraphale excitedly tells Crowley that he’s committed to solving this Gabriel mystery and has even found a Clue, Crowley tells him knock it off and also “Don’t pronounce the capital letter.” This was, of course, a hallmark of Pratchett’s writing, who loved employing capital letters on words-of-import for the sake of emphasis and, of course, comedic effect. Many of Pratchett’s characters will comment about when they can “hear” the capital letters in someone else’s sentences, as Crowley is doing here.
- Dibbler’s Laudanum
In the flashback to 19th century Scotland, Crowley and Aziraphale meet a young bodysnatcher named Elspeth, whose fortunes take a turn for the worst when the angel’s meddling results in the need for another body to be snatched, inadvertently causing the death of her best friend. Determined to join said friend in the afterlife, Elspeth steals laudanum from Mr Dalrymple’s surgery, and the bottle bears the label “C.M.O.T. Dibbler & Co Chemists.”
Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler is an Ankh-Morpork, er, businessman in the Discworld series, a purveyor of “fine” foods such a sausage inna bun, meat pies that might contain meat, and worse sausages inna bun. Dibbler never met a venture he wouldn’t happily try his hand at, and pops up doing everything from movie producing to tabloid journalism. (Vending poison just cuts out the middle man, you might say.) Throughout the books, Pratchett makes it clear that everyplace has their own version of Dibbler, which is why it makes perfect sense for him to show up here.
- Nac Mac Feegle
When Crowley decides to drink Dibbler’s laudanum himself in effort to save Elspeth, it has some unexpected side effects, one of which results in him shrinking, and also becoming a bit fighty and seemingly drunk. This makes him greatly resemble the Nac Mac Feegle, a race of fae creatures who are meant to be the Discworld version of Scottish folk (which Crowley is currently pretending to be and David Tennant is), who are all red-haired (check), incredibly small (currently check), and enamored of drinking and fighting (and check thanks to the laudanum). Granted, he promptly becomes very large after the fact, but the similarities can’t be discounted.
- Mrs. Sandwich
The owner of the brothel on Aziraphale’s street is one Mrs. Sandwich, which is a Pratchett-ish name if you’ve ever heard one. After all, the denizens of Ankh-Morpork certainly know to look out for Mrs. Cake.
While at Aziraphale’s ball, everyone is charmed into using period-appropriate language and topics to suit the occasion. This leads to some confusion when Ms. Cheng asks Mrs. Sandwich what her business is, and Mrs. Sandwich finds that whenever she tries to answer, the response she gives is “seamstress.” She cannot say anything about the brothel, so she instead employs a handy metaphor to explain her work, all about darning socks and sewing on buttons for lonely men.
In the city of Ankh-Morpork the Seamstresses Guild happens to be the guild of sex workers. This leads to a fair amount of confusion for City Watch Commander Sam Vimes when he eventually meets a woman named Sandra, who actually is a seamstress within the guild—she winds up being helpful for the men who get (understandably) confused about the name, and do, in fact, turn up to have their shirts mended for a fee.