Cirque Du So Gay. BritBrit "performs" "Toxic," touching her cooter a lot and glaring around with an evil look on her face like she's in the road show of Wicked, by way of choreography.

They're in Madrid, Spain and I apologize in retrospect to all the Spanish people BritBrit and K-Fed no doubt referred to as "Mexicans" while they were there. Madrid. Madrid. Madrid. K-Fed and BritBrit fuck around in some open courtyard while K-FedNow! and Boobney do some skank-over about how they got into a big fight and he threatened to leave. And while this is the best footage they could come up with to indicate a "fight" -- even though in the footage they're clearly getting along fine -- K-FedNow! goes on to explain that she didn't want him to go but she pretended she did and it got "old" and K-Fed wasn't going to let her push him away, because he knew how she really felt about him deep down. Well, also, free trip to Europe! Who's going to let that shit go without a fight? Boobney babbles about love being scary or some shit. Only if you're in love with a mongoose.

Now BritBrit shows the K-Fed cam around their little villa. BritBrit "jokes" about doing a music video in there. While we have to sit through this unbelievably pointless footage, Boobney and K-FedNow! blather on about how he wasn't going to tell her he loved her until she was "sure" she loved him. Or something. Maybe. More pointless Spanish CRIBS-esque video of BritBrit dancing and showing off the Spanish archways as the gruesome twosome talk about how K-Fed finally did say "it" and then things blossomed from there. Boobney gives her brilliant theory on love and letting go and tearing down walls. Pink Floyd should sue her. So should music. And television.