All language subtitles for MV5BZjU4ZTk1OGMtODczNS0

The thrust of what I think

represents an exciting
and fantastic opportunity

for this very ancient club.

And I think, I might say,
you're in this position

because of some
very sensible decisions

that you've obviously made
in the past.

So much of the hard work
is done.

You've already got
your liquor licence,

you've got your car park.

You're sitting on
what I believe to be

the best bit
of blue-chip real estate

available in town.

Now, all of this is achievable
once we inject some capital.

And here, I think,
in this package,

you've got the lot, basically.

You've got your piano bar there,

you've got your brasserie,
you've got your carvery,

you've got a sports bar here
with the big screens.

You've got an indoor waterfall
there in the foyer.

What's this room for?

Could be anything.
Maybe a conference centre.

It's got 172 power points.

Has it?

It's for pokies, isn't it?

Obviously that's one option,
but...

I don't think we should get
too bogged down in the detail.

Think about
the indoor waterfall.

Indoor bloody waterfall?

- I'm disgusted with the
government's decision

to set up free heroin clinics.

Free heroin for druggies?!

Hmm, good point. They're
just dirty people...

Hey, mate? Hey.

Arsehole!

Where'd you learn to drive,
you hat... wearing fool?

On horseback?!

You stupid old goat!

Parking officers - chapel street.

Parking officers - chapel street.

Idiots.

You don't think we're
overreacting, Eileen?

Something had to go, Len.

And the ladies insist
we keep the urn.

There'll be complaints.
Just for a change.

Well, we're aware
of our financial position.

What about pennant?

We'll use the fridge
in the kitchen, Len.

What about trifle day?

You've seen
the electricity bill?

Oh, well, it probably won't
matter this Saturday, anyway.

Eh?

Allan called -
he's busted his hip.

- Again?
- Yeah.

Poor bugger's in st Vincent's.

I'll have a whip-round -
organise a fruit platter.

The upshot is
we can't field a team.

There must be someone.
Well, I'm blowed if I know.

Herb Johnson?

Oh, um, arthritis is playing up.

Neville Walker?

Deceased.

Albert Jackson?

Albert. Jackson?

Oh, um... moved up
to the gold coast.

Sid reils?

Oh...

What about Jack Simpson?

Who? Jack Simpson.

Says here he's been a member
since 1996.

Yeah?
Who the hell's Jack Simpson?

How does
“go fuck yourself' sound?

Come on, Jack. I've had
four parking fines this week.

And you've got three parks.
All I need is one.

That's fine, Pete,
but what about me

and what about my needs?

Yeah, alright then.

I might just join that club
and get my own permit.

Yeah, good luck.

Is Jack Simpson there, please?

Um, I see.

Um, thanks, anyway.

G'day, Jack.

Yeah, yeah, hand it over.

There's your permit.

Pleasure doing business
with you, George.

Sorry, my mistake.

Silly old coots.

Remind me to do something
about the car park

at our next general meeting,
Eileen.

It's supposed to be
for members only.

- Dave?
Mate, great news.

Cleaned up the kitchen?

Ah, give me a break.
I'm a busy fella.

Yeah, right.

No, I've just heard your three
favourite words, my friend.

Snap transport strike.

So how much are you gonna
charge tomorrow

for the car parks?

Mate, if you have to ask
you probably can't afford it.

Here it is.

Newsreader:
Tomorrow's transport strike

set to go ahead following
the failure of crisis talks

between the government
and the union.

Chaos is expected...

Whoa, yeah. You little beauty!

Oh, great. Great.

Now, I'm gonna have to go
and get changed again.

It's like living
with Diana Ross.

Bingo.

Read 'em and weep, pal.

Snap transport strike.

So get ready to shell out
the bickies.

Who?

Len Johnson?

Yeah, he rang here earlier.

From the bowling club?

Yes, this is Jack Simpson.

Now listen up, old-timer.

I have to what?

Saturday?

Or what?

Right, now...

Can I just ask you...

You're taking your medication,
aren't you?

Right, and hooroo to you too.

Who's Len?

Some clown from the bowling club

telling me I have to
bowl this Saturday

or forfeit my membership.

Lawn bowls?

Fuck a duck.

Crikey, Stan,
you're tossing pineapples.

Just getting them
out of the system, Len.

It's only the roll-up, mate.

'Scuse me, Len.

But you'll be pleased to know
that Jack Simpson has arrived.

Great. We've got a team.

Everybody, meet Jack Simpson.

G'day, g'day.

There appears to be
a bit of a mix-up, young fella.

You're telling me.

Sorry to muck you about,
but I'm afraid we're looking for

the Jack Simpson
who's a member of this club.

Ah, ah, ah, ah, that's me.

I'm a member.
Have been since '96.

I see.

Uh, well, in that case,
mr Simpson,

your services will be required
this morning.

You, my boy,
are going for a roll.

Great. Couldn't be happier.

Alright, young fella.

The idea is to get your bowl

as close to this little
white one as you can.

Right? Yes.

And keep the small circle
on the inside,

'cause it's gonna curve
like buggery.

WoSwear jar, Stan.

Um, it's gonna curve
like the billyo.

Oh, and remember...

It's a game of skill,
touch and Patience.

A true revealer of character,
son.

All that's revealing right now

is two inches of arse crack
poking out the top of my pants.

Hello, ladies!

Just get on with it, son.

These bowls are shithouse.

As I said,
a true revealer of character.

- Can I go now?
- No, unfortunately.

Unbelievable. And this is cool?

Ashtrays at either end.

Not sure what that is,
but I'm guessing it's not smoko.

Lovely sandwiches, ladies.

Grouse. Top shelf.

You've done it again.

They're at genuine 1972 prices.

So how long's
this been going on, gentlemen?

Well, son...

It's been going a long time.

Longer than you and me,
that's for sure.

In fact, the most
memorable game was in 1588

when sir Francis Drake
played the famous game

against lord Howard
at Plymouth hoe

while awaiting the arrival
of the Spanish armada.

And you know what, son,

the great man finished the game
before sailing into the channel

aboard his man-of-war
to vanquish the enemy.

He told his men -
and this is true, son -

“there's still time
to win this game

“and thrash the spaniard too.”

Some people say
he lost the game,

but I like to think he won
the game and the battle too.

Because the great sir Francis
Drake didn't know...

The meaning of defeat.

Think they're giving you
the wind-up, Stan. 'Scuse I.

Ladies, this is the best
damn trifle I've had bar none.

Swear jar, mr Simpson.
Swear jar - what's that?

That's the jar you put
money in if you say 'fuck'.

What's all that about?

That's the highest accolade
you can be paid by the skip.

Eh, Stan!

Yeah?

Hope you're not having
a bad hair day,

'cause I'll have that thing
airborne in no time.

WoMeasure.

Measure. Grow up, son.

Nah, I just wanna be sure.
Measure.

We don't have one long enough.

Good stuff.

What do you do
for a crust, Jack?

Oh, well, where do I start?

Um... very technical.

Modern communications. It.

Very high-tech, yeah.
Hard to explain to...

Well,
you're from a simpler time.

Don't want to bamboozle you
with the details.

Very complex. What about you?
What did you used to do?

Run my own business.
Good for you.

Good for you.
Must have fond memories?

I still run it.

Good for you.

Yeah.

Very good.

What about you, Stan?

35 years in the Navy.

Oh, yeah? Couldn't get out, eh?

I'd, er, dig ditches for
a living with the right people.

Right, well...
My work here's done.

Cheers.

Noted, love. Noted.

And Mark my words,
heads will roll.

Gee, you look like
you need that, mate.

Bowling must be thirsty work.
Yep.

But if you can't handle the heat,
get out of the kitchen.

You want a radox bath?

You look like
you're aching all over.

Don't joke, Dave.
It gets pretty hairy out there.

To tell the truth, I have
pulled up a bit sore.

You wouldn't be able
to pass me one of those beers,

would you, Dave?

Thank you.

So, rolling balls
with a bunch of oldies.

Hard yards.

They're not balls, Dave,
they're bowls.

Tell you the truth,
it wasn't all bad.

Yeah, right.
Very civilised, actually.

Smoke like a chimney,

booze is cheap, food's free,

and, at the end of the day,
not much chance of doing a hammy.

That's a tick in every box.

Some of the old holdens
in the car park

are in better Nick than yours.

Bullshit. Swear jar, Dave.

What? Swear jar.

What part of 'no'
don't you understand, Bernie?

I don't believe you people.

I'm throwing this club
a lifeline.

We've decided to go
a different route.

There isn't a different route.

The no pokies route.

Look, let's just put aside,
can we,

the question of poker machines
for a moment?

Forget pokies.

No, no. Great idea, Len.

Let's forget about
these machines

that bring in
$50,000 each annually.

Every year, Len.

I'm not Einstein,
but you do the figures.

You multiply that by 100 -
that's the number of machines.

We're sitting on a goldmine.

We're gonna bus these people in
and pick their pockets

24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

The machines are programmed
so the people can't win.

They literally cannot win.

It's like shooting fish
in a barrel.

Sorry, Bernie.

Well, you're gonna have to
do something, aren't you?

I mean, the clock is ticking
for the club, isn't it?

You'll come round -
you've got to.

There is no other option.

Woman on radio:
It's alright for youse

living in the leafy suburbs
of Sydney and Melbourne.

What about the real Australians?

Radio announcer:
Well said. Next caller.

This transport strike's
a bloody disgrace.

I was late for work
all this week.

At least you're going to work,
unlike those union bludgers...

Is there anything else
I can help you with?

Thanks for the call,

and don't forget
our online billing service.

Hello.

Len? You didn't have
to call, but I appreciate it.

Now, listen,
if I can ever help out again...

That's the reason
for calling, Jack.

Len, thanks for the call.
Gotta go. You're a good egg.

The reason I'm calling
is to let you know

I've done the roster and you'll
be required to work the bar

next Tuesday evening
after ladies pennant.

We've called an extraordinary
general meeting.

Jack, are we still on
for Tuesday night?

Babe, have I ever let you down?

Len, listen...
Zurich on the other line.

I've gotta go, really. Jack

the thing you need to know
about this club

is it's all hands on deck.

Do I get paid? No.

The only person who gets paid
here is the greenkeeper.

Tuesday then?

Great. Only one more sleep.

Thanks.

Oh, and, er, Jack... yes?

You're a good egg.

Rules are rules, ida.
I'm going to have my say.

Oh, this is the cheese incident?

I've heard about it.
He should know better.

Nobody else can get away
with it. Why should he?

- Whey-hey, nice pins!
- Fuck off.

I wasn't talking to you.

Nance... l know.

Swear jar.

How was the bowling, ladies?
Fine, thank you.

That's the way.
We met the other day.

I'm Eileen - the lady president.

President? Slept your way
to the top, I'll bet.

Ladies, this is Jack Simpson.

We've been talking about you.
All good, I hope.

Well... no, actually.

Jack, it's been brought
to my attention

that last Saturday after bowls
you helped yourself

to a slice from the
complimentary wheel of cheese.

Is that right? Yes.

And you used it
to make a sandwich,

even though it's clearly
understood by all members

that the cheese is provided

for the making of cheese
and biscuits only.

Should my lawyer be present?
Knock it off, Jack.

What if I plead insanity?
I beg your pardon?

Putting a slice of cheese
between two bits of bread

as opposed to
on top of a cracker -

I ask you, does that sound
like the actions of a sane man?

Drinks, ladies?
Three Shirley temples, please.

Oh, no.
I'm not falling for that one.

I've seen you old ducks in
the supermarket. Back in five.

How the hell do you make
a Shirley temple?

Buggered if I know.

She's community affairs
reporter for the 'bugle'.

Covers bowls, along with
half a dozen other things.

Gee, bet she's pinching herself.

She used to do the 'tribune'.

Did quite well too. Till she
upset the wrong person.

Her name's Nance.

If you're interested. Am not.

Got a girlfriend. No, you don't!

What are you doing here?

Returning your things.

Better all be here!

Alright, alright!

A bit of shush-o, please.

I hereby call this meeting
to order.

Ladies and gentlemen, the queen.

The queen.

It is with a heavy heart

that I mention
our financial situation

as of may 30.

In a nutshell,
due to dwindling membership

and increased maintenance costs,

our economic situation can
best be described as. Dire.

All those in favour of calling
our economic situation 'dire'?

Thank you, Gwen.

The current shortfall stands at...

$7,486.35.

If we can't come up with
this amount within 30 days,

the club has no choice
but to dissolve

and all memberships
will be rescinded.

Having said that,
are there any suggestions?

We could enter a tournament
offering some prize money.

There's a few around.

President Len, I'm sure
the fundraising committee

will be able to come up
with a few ideas.

We could have one of those dos

where we come
as our favourite decade.

We had one of those.
It was a disaster.

Yes, I know.
Everyone came as the '50s.

Why don't we raise
the price of beer?

Hey, fair go, aggie.

Order. Order. Order.

Um, we could try to get
some new young members.

Here's an idea.

Why don't you ask
that nice, young bloke

that climbed in
through my bathroom window

and beat me about the noggin?

He'd be fun to have around.

Good luck finding one

that isn't plied
to the eyeballs on drugs.

He can talk. He pops those pills
like they're maltesers.

We must explore
all avenues.

I'd rather put
pokie machines in.

We know that's not going
to happen.

No, hang on. Excuse me.

Didn't you say that all avenues
must be explored?

Order! Hang on a minute.

What do all you guys think?

The chair does not recognise
the speaker.

Chair wouldn't know a good idea
if it popped up in his porridge.

Has he shown you the plans?

This meeting
is for members only.

You've been warned
about harassment.

I'll call the police.

They only issue a certain number

of poker machine licences.

Ring the gaming board
and try getting one without me.

You'll find that licences
for the next five years

have been allocated - to me.

Order. I hereby declare this
meeting closed.

That's where we're putting
the carvery -

in through there, folks.

Beautiful new carvery.
You'll love it.

The wheel of cheese.

I'm sorry, ladies and gentlemen,

there's one more item
of business on the agenda -

the, uh, wheel of cheese.

Good lord.

I move that
due to certain liberties

taken by a particular member,

that the daily setting
of the wheel of cheese

be temporarily suspended

pending further investigation

by a special sub-committee
to be chaired by myself.

WoHear, hear.

I'll second that notion, Gwen.

In the meantime, Jack,
what are you gonna do

about getting some
young bowlers down the club?

Stand back and watch the master.

Mine's closer.

Don't know.
Calling for a measure.

What for? Your dick?

What the hell are you doing?
You said we could smoke.

Dave, this is a bowls club.
You know, old people.

Give me that. It's so peaceful.

Ease up, son. We say “use the
grass” but that's over the top.

Idiot.

You'd have this stuff growing
in the shed, wouldn't you, mate?

This place would be perfect
for a hydroponic setup, hey?

You've got the expertise,
the equipment,

chemicals and all that.

Oh, please!
It's your bowl, Jack.

If you've got somewhere cool
to store it, you're laughing.

You know
what you're talking about.

Hey, get back to work, buddy.

I don't like seeing my fees
frittered away on idle chitchat.

Chop chop.
WoCome on. Come on!

Good try, mate.
He's bloody hopeless.

You're showing a bit,
though, love.

Give Jack a run for his money.

Thank you, Stan.

You could bowl with the ladies.
Maybe not, Eileen.

Don't get me wrong.
I like the ladies.

The uniform's just not me.
Why's that?

The white hat and dress.
It's like saying you're old...

Not that there's anything
wrong with that, Eileen.

You know what I mean.
Of course I do, dear.

This is a great game.

This is a really great game.

Where did it come from, Stan?

Well, son,
that's a matter of some debate.

The game goes back
a long, long time,

long before you and me,
that's for sure.

In fact, the most memorable
game ever played was in 1588

when the great sir Francis Drake

00:25:45,824
while awaiting the arrival
of the Spanish armada.

Here we go.
This is the real lesson.

You spend 80% of your time

standing around listening
to old blokes banging on.

Vanquished the enemy.

And he told his men-
this is true, son-

“we've still got time
to finish this game,

“and beat the spaniard too.”

Some people say
he lost the game, son.

But I like to think
that he won the game,

and won the battle at sea too,

because the great
sir Francis Drake

didn't understand the meaning
of the word 'defeat'.

Jack, have you seen
Len and Stan?

In there somewhere, Eileen,

but careful,
it's a real pea souper.

Legs 11.

New bingo master. Dave.

Asked him for a favour, and
I think he's enjoying himself.

88 - two fat ladies.

Congratulations to the
fundraising committee, Eileen.

Bingo. Who'd have thought?

It's a start, Stan.

17 -
heads full of brylcreem.

How's the other thing going?

I've entered us
in the men's fours tournament,

starting next week.

Men's fours?
We can hardly field a team.

It's the only tournament
on the horizon

offering
the right kind of prize money.

27...

I've got a mate called bevan.

Who's running it?

Four-round knockout.
Winner takes all.

Bernie Fowler.

That shifty twerp?

He'd still be
sniffing around here

if he wasn't barred
from the premises.

10 - stab me in the eye
with a ballpoint pen.

Hey, take it easy, mate.

Crikey.

Bernie Fowler wouldn't give us
a wave if he owned the ocean.

Look what he did to his own
club, bogarra. Disgusting.

The Buckingham Palace of bowls
turned into a pokies slum.

44 - two fat whores.

WoBeg your pardon?

You liked the two fat ladies.

Bingo.

Exactly what I wanted to hear.

No, thank you.

Music of the gods.

How's it going out there?

Anyone winning? No.

Not a cracker.

Well, there's a bombshell.

Guess what. Cityside
have entered my tournament.

You know what that means,
don't you?

It means they're up shit creek,
financially speaking.

As you know,

normally I'd like to welcome
them aboard myself personally,

but sadly, on this occasion,

they've got a restraining order
out against me,

so this is where
you gentlemen come in.

Happy to help in any way,
mr Fowler.

Jack Simpson.
That must be the one.

Here's a special assignment
for you, boys.

Find out what his story is.

Or you can use

our virtual customer
service centre.

You can pay bills online
and check your balance.

Just go to our website
and click on 'online billing'.

Is there anything else
I can do for you?

Now, what's so good
about that call

is that she mentions the vcsc,
improved her terminology

and took ownership of the call.

Mmm.

Now, I'm going to give that
an 85.71%.

Hmm?

What did we
all think of that call?

WoGood.

Personally,
I don't think she did enough

to service the customer's needs.

I mean, the customer is king.

Go on, Jack.

It also struck me
as unnecessarily long,

especially when you consider
we are trying

to keep average call times
to under 12 seconds per call,

which we need to do if we are
going to meet our target quota.

Is that right, Jack? Yep.

Well, why don't we
listen to one of your calls?

Excellent idea.

Good afternoon.
My name is Jack Simpson.

And you are a good-for-nothing
layabout. Ha ha!

Hi, Jack. How's it going?
Shithouse.

I had this idiot on the line
going on and on,

so I said, “Blow it out your arse.”

Still on for later? Yeah.

I'll see you at the bowls club.

I've told our dumbfuck supervisor

I've got a migraine coming on,
so I'll get the arvo off.

Ha hal

Maybe a little long,

but otherwise I'd give it
an... 85.21%.

Hmm. You're fired, Simpson.

How do we all feel about that?
Get out.

This car park taken, is it?
Who wants to know?

Not a bad little money-spinner,
one of these car parks.

Could be.

Imagine if you had, say,
three of them.

See, I've been doing a bit
of research about this club.

Lovely club.
Huge fan of the club.

I noticed there are
three members of this club

all registered at exactly
the same postal address.

Is that right?

I like your style, Jack.

You remind me a bit of myself
as a young bloke.

Pretty sure we'll be able
to come to an arrangement

when I take over the club.

You seem pretty confident
about that.

Ooh, yeah. Yeah, I'm confident.

You know cityside can't win
this tournament, don't you?

They're not a bad outfit,
cityside.

They can't win the tournament,
Jack.

I only run these things

to bring more pokie-playing
members to my club.

You'll notice the finals are at Bogarra.

Get crack ring-ins
to do the bowling

and keep the prize money.

The team I've put
together this year,

I reckon it's the best
I've ever seen.

Shouldn't you be stroking a
white cat or something, Bernie?

Here's your 20, Jack. I believe
that's the going rate.

Keep your 20.

You didn't see me,
but you'll hear from me.

What next?

For crying out loud!

What do you people want from me?
We need you for the numbers.

That makes me feel
real special, Len.

Just telling you the way it is.

There's plenty of blokes here.
They're non-playing members.

That's what I would like to be.

What happened to “all hands
on deck”?

Oh, they have their reasons.

What about that bloke?
Why can't he bowl?

Yeah. If only he could.

That's Cliff Carout.

Banned from the Greens for life
for an unfortunate incident

that happened some 35 years ago.

Get out. What happened?

Ah, no, no.

Oh, well.

The details are a bit sketchy,

what with the passing of time
and all.

Right. I see.

So you have no problem
telling me

what sir Francis Drake
had for brekkie in 1588,

yet suddenly the last 35 years

have you completely stumped,
hey, Stan?

Alright.

If you must know, let's say
during an extended rain delay

3 few drinks were had.

It was a pretty heavy downpour
too, I might add.

Nobody expected to go back on.

But they did.

After an end, the other mob

accused Cliff of not chalking
a bowl that was in the ditch,

and that infuriated Cliff.

So what did he do?

He headbutted him.

Get out.

Then he waited for the bruise
to come up and he chalked it.

It was a fair size bruise too.

They say it looked
like a resting toucher.

But, you know,
it's not funny, Jack,

and I don't want to hear you
repeating that story.

It's a shame because
those that saw Cliff bowl

say that he was as good
as the great glynn bosisto.

Who? Glynn bosisto.

The Don bradman of bowls.

Everything he rolled
was spun gold.

Yeah, well, Cliff's done his
time. Let's get him out there.

We'll enter him
under a false name.

He wouldn't have a bar of it.

That's what I most admire
about Cliff.

He knew he did wrong,
and he copped it on the chin.

I'll be buggered if I will.

I've played your dopey pennant,
worked your stupid bar,

I've lost my girlfriend
and my job.

I'm out of here. I'm done.
But the constitution says...

Jam your constitution
fair up your clacker, Len.

We had a good arrangement
for five years.

I paid my fees
and you take my cash.

Why have you been
paying your fees, Jack?

What?

What's the advantage
if you don't bowl?

I might want to one day.
I'm getting in early.

Earlier than you think.

Next Saturday, in fact.

I can't bowl!

Everybody can bowl, Jack.

Yeah. It's time you learned.

Gee. Quaint, isn't it?

Maybe we should
check the cars for kids.

Come on, fellas,
let's talk it up.

Let's talk it up.
They're nothing. They're soft!

Let's stick it right up 'em!

Can anyone
let me have a Celebrex?

Swap you for a tenormin.
Oh, right. Ok.

Anybody got digoxin? Mmm. Here.

They're angenene, Len.

I'll go one of those.

Come on!

What the hell is this?

That's norm's bowling arm.
He's got a bung leg.

Bowling arm?

It's just an aid for people
who can't bend over.

I'm with you. No bending over.

Nice one.

Ok. All up.

Ooh, yeah. That's good.

Let's crush 'em like ants!

Check out this mob's clobber.

Once you introduce pokies,

all the other traditions
go out the window as well.

They look shithouse.

It's not the clothes.
It's what's inside. Come on.

What are you doing?
Just polishing my bowls, Len.

They're my underpants.

Does your husband bowll?

That was a waste of a bowl.

You're a bloody disgrace.

Come on, norm,
I've hurt my back.

Ooh. Ooh.

We're two up, Jack.

Put it out wide into the ditch.
Nup.

Jack.
I'm going to bowl the flipper.

What's a flipper?

Wanker.

You can't bend it both ways,
Jack.

Look and learn, Stan.

You've got two shots.

I had to go for it.

Cheer up, lads. Always tomorrow.

No, there's not.

We're out, thanks to you.

You've brought our club
to its knees.

Doing a flipper.

Steady on, Len.

He's right.
You're a bloody fool.

The sad thing is you're
a natural. I can see that.

You've got a $1,200 arm.
You're out there lairising.

But I could forgive all that.

What really sticks in my craw
is you making fun of norm.

It's not right.

He can handle it.
Shut up and listen.

Norm's got cancer.

This was his last game of bowls.

His leg comes off tomorrow.

Happy, Jack?

Let's get out of here.

Come on, Jack. Hey!

See ya later.
Where are you going?

Nice hatchet job.
I call it as I see it.

You must be very proud.

Here's a good bit.

“Simpson's introduction
of the so-called 'flipper'

“nearly brought the house down,

'while the bowl itself
was last seen

“heading through the
kfc car park on York street.”

Top shelf. I thought so.

At least it's at the back

where all pulitzer prize
journalism resides,

so ho-ohe will see it.

Nance, nice article.
Shut up, mate.

Still looking
for your bowl, Jack?

You know, here's the deal.

If you wanted to sleep with me,
all you had to do was ask.

I see cityside's back in the
tournament, no thanks to you.

You're kidding!

Greensville's pulled out.
The club's gone under.

You guys are back in
as the highest ranked losers.

It's great news, isn't it?

A bit off the back and sides
when you get a minute, pal.

Bernie Fowler.

Well, well, well.

I had you pegged
as the sort of bloke

who's so mean
you'd cut your own hair.

I've got to say,
I'm a little hurt, Len.

Oh, why's that?
This whole restraining order.

I miss the gang already.
How's Gwen?

The club rejected your offer.

It was unanimous.

Be careful with your use
of the word 'unanimous'.

It's bandied about a bit
too casually for my liking.

It was unanimous.

You can't pretend, Len,
to have everyone on your side

if I'm talking to your members.

How many?

Only need to be one
for it not to be unanimous.

Are you saying
there's a rat in the ranks?

That's your term, not my term.

See you round, Bernie.

I can understand your resistance
to all this, Len.

Your club
does have a proud tradition.

I wish it was the 1950s too,
but it isn't.

Outside these four walls,
of course.

In your own time, son.

If they want
to come here

they should learn the language.

Most of them aren't
genuine refugees anyway.

They're queue-jumpers,
that's what they are.

It's a bloody disgrace.
Next caller.

And that's why

I'll never get
another tattoo in Manila.

I like you, Stan, but I
never want to see that tattoo.

What's going on here, then?

Stan's brought around
a bit of his home brew,

and we're celebrating cityside
being back in the tournament.

It's against
a journalist's code of ethics

to turn down a drink,
particularly a free one.

Fair enough.

Mother's milk. Oh, yeah.

And when it goes flat,
it's great for washing your hair.

Hey, so why did you get
the flick from the 'tribune'?

It's history now.

Come on.

It's just not that interesting.

Upset the owner.

Out with it.

Well... it was the only time
I ever met him.

He introduced himself,
leant into my ear and said,

“always remember, keep them
angry, keep them stupid.”

What did you say?

Get your hand off my arse,
pappy.

Wow. Nice one.

Right, who's for anothery?
Yes, please.

Go for it, Dave.

On you, Dave!

Oh ho ho!

What about the watch?

Let's go again! Go again!

Big game tomorrow.

See youse bright and early.

No worries, Stan. See ya, Stan.

I'll see you out.
No, you're right, mate.

I tell you what.

One more drink
and I'll be anybody's.

He'll turn up.
I don't think he will.

We get Ron out of his deathbed
and Jack doesn't front.

That'll be 9:00, gentlemen.

Shit.

I'm sorry, Joe, but it looks
like it's not going to be.

Yeah, we're struggling
for members at the moment.

I know that feeling, Len.

Went through
the same thing ourselves.

We would've collapsed

if greensville
hadn't gone under first.

Greensville. Boy,
there was a cracker of a club.

Yeah.

Anyhow,
we got most of their members

which got us out of the woods.

Good for you, Joe.
I'm really happy for you.

Well, well, well.

I knew you were struggling, Len,
but, well, I had no idea.

Sorry I'm late,
but you can blame Stan.

Home brew my arse.

I'd get that shit
down to forensics.

Wait until you try
the heavy stuff, son.

How are you feeling, Jack?

Better now I've got
fuel in the tank.

These sandwiches are top shelf,
ladies.

Thank you. Well done again.

You must've really tried one on
after I left last night.

Yeah. Had a couple of quieties.

Hope you're equal to the job.

And what's it
got to do with you?

Oh, nothing. Forget it.

Come on. What?

Most sportsmen across the board
perform better when they...

Yeah?

Abstain from sex
the night before a big match.

I see.

And that's why you blokes
are such excellent bowlers.

You haven't
had a decent root since 1943.

I'll have you know I go off
like a firecracker in the sack.

Ron, not while I'm eating.

Nice bowl, mate.

Ah, nice one, Keith.

Bowl, mate.

That hat glued to your head,
Stan?

We've got shot. Just go wide,
put it in the ditch.

Don't go near the head, Jack.

Just put it in the ditch.

It's in the bag.

Well, I'll line up
the drinks, then.

That's not a retraction you're
writing there, is it, Nance?

Well done, fellas.
We're through to the third round.

Nice one, Jack.

I am out of here.

I think you'll find
that according to etiquette,

you're actually required
in the clubhouse for an ale.

Uh-uh. All aled out
after Stan's home-brew.

Then I'll have to report you
to the governor.

What are you talking about,
Dave?

The governor is the patron

of the royal victorian bowls
association,

the highest authority
in the game.

One call and you're
out on your arse, pal.

I s'pose I could squeeze
one down for the governor.

I thought you'd see it my way.
Eh, Stan!

I'd shake your hand,

but I don't want to damage
my $1,200 bowling arm.

Better get in here before Dave
reports you to the governor.

I swear, Len, that's
the only time I've ever done it.

And that's the honest truth?

Honest.

Apart from those times?

Listen to this.

“Cityside bowling club is
in breach of local ordinance

'number 96a, subsection 2b -

“unlawfully gaining
financial advantage

“from premises
leased from the crown.

“Hope all's well.”

Bernie Fowler.

What's that bastard
got to do with this?

He knows about
the car park bizzo.

How do you know he knows?
He told me.

A rat in the ranks.

Bernie bloody Fowler.

That prick's
been after our club for years.

And here you go,
giving it to him on a platter.

Pack your bags, Jack.
You're expelled from this club.

Effective immediately.

What can I do?

Sorry about that, mate.

Yeah. Let you know
if anything changes.

Ok. Cheers.

Gimme that!

You don't do that
with a pelargonium domesticum.

I thought it was
a pelargonium peltatum.

You're not gonna believe
what's happened.

No, I know.
I've had Gwen on the phone.

I'm doing my balls
in cancelled bookings.

I really need it.
This is a debacle.

You just don't get it, do ya?

Oh, not you too.

What's with you, anyway?
You've gone bowls crazy.

You're at all the games,
expert on the rules,

Gwen on the phone -
you're in on everything.

I've applied for membership.
Sorry? You've what?

Applied for membership.

You've gone mad!

No, I just want to be prepared
for the interview,

and create a good impression
around the club.

Why? So they let me in.

Gwenny nominated me.

I'm actually really enjoying
being involved.

You're already involved. What?

You're already a member.
I used your name for a car park.

Why hasn't anyone
mentioned this to me?

'Cause I used your real name.
What?

Albert.

Albert David Jackson.

Oh, thanks.

You're a class act.

Sorry, Albert.

Thanks for making the effort,
Edgar.

I know your knees are crook,

but you're helping us
out of a tight spot.

Wouldn't have missed it, Len.

Besides, beaut day for a roll.

Yeah. Crackerjack.

Coming nicely, mate...

Coming nicely!

Yes, Stan!

Magnificent!

Still in there, boys.
Well bowled, skip.

Yep, we're off
to the semis.

The baking competition's
under way.

Any other suggestions?

We've been approached again
by that advertising mob

who want to film
an incontinence ad at the club.

They've been at us for years.

Haemorrhoids, osteoporosis,
incontinence pads.

That's how they see us.
Absolutely not.

I know it's a little risque,
but we could make one of these.

A nude calendar?

You're full of good suggestions
today, mrs Jenkins.

Oh, my. Check out
the saggy Hooters.

Oh. Dave!

Sorry. They've just got that...
'National geographic' look.

How about a raffle?

I'm sure Bob Turner
would donate a meat tray.

Seven and a half grand?

It'd want to be a big bastard.

Swear jar, Dave.

Now, you're not welcome here.

And if you don't leave,
we'll have you kicked out.

I'd like to draw
to your attention - if I may -

rule 17, which clearly states

I can't be expelled
from the club

till the meeting
of the next committee,

which, I believe,
is in 10 days time.

He's right, Edgar.

Yeah. You got us there.

Hey. Hope this is
your lunchbreak, pal.

Mmm. That looks nice.

What do you call that? Gruel?

They're scones, Jack.

For the baking competition.

Mmm. Looks like a winner.

If anyone needs me,
I'll be behind the bar.

How are you going in there,
Gwen?

I'm onto something.

I just found these herbs
in the fridge.

Herbs? Sounds fancy.

3-minute warning, gentlemen.

Look, I'm not
real happy about it either.

But he's a member
of the bloody club.

We gotta win this thing.

And the bugger can bowl.

Show 'em, son.

Bowl, Jack.

Bowl, mate.

Just put it in the ditch, Jack.

In the ditch!

I don't like it.

Come on, mate.

He... he's doing it too, eh?

Well done, mate.
Good on ya, Jack.

I can't believe it.
We made the final.

I don't like it.

He's only hanging around so
he can hold onto his car park.

He's trouble.

I still say bowls is a true
revealer of character.

He showed some today.

I still don't like it.

It doesn't matter.

We made the bloody final.

Jack Simpson?

I thought I sorted him out.

Apparently he has
an uneasy truce with the club.

I'll have to have another word

with our friend mr Simpson,
won't I?

Frankly, this is proving
a great deal more difficult

than I had planned.

Pray tell me,
who is this upstart Nancy brown?

She's the, um... bowls reporter.

I've been done over
by the bowls reporter!

Listen to this.

“Mr Fowler has been linked

“to suspect
gaming authority officers

“in charge of the issuing
of licences.”

I mean, for Christ's sake,

under no circumstances
is Nancy brown to enter

the bogarra bowls club.

Right? Where do you think the
editor of the 'bugle' might be?

He's on line two.

Oh, is he? Good work.

Well, thank you, boys.

You say cityside are having
a fancy dress thing tonight?

Yeah.

That's interesting, isn't it?

Say cheese! Oh, lovely.

One more!

Two tall ships, Saddam.

And may I say
you're not a bad bloke...

Compared with the arsehole
who usually runs this bar.

Get stuffed, Ron.

Eh, Jack. Who am I?

Ooh, now let me see.

Wouldn't be...

Sir Francis Drake?

Aw, shit.

Great man, great bowler.

And a deadset knockout
in pantaloons.

Sit down, sir Francis.

I'll let the Spanish armada know
you could be a while.

There's one for the mantelpiece.

Well! Hello, mrs Jenkins.

Lovely ida!
You scrub up nicely.

If I was 40 years older,
you'd be in trouble right now.

Oh, cheeky!

Why don't I jump in the bath
for a few hours and wrinkle up?

Watch it, Sonny, watch it.

Bring 'em over. Yeah. Will do.

And what can I do for the king?

I think it's more
a question, Jack,

of what the king can do
to help you.

Bernie Fowler.

You've got a hide,
turning up here.

Hey! Everyone!
No, don't do that, Jack.

Just came in
to see you privately.

I wanna make you an offer.

Save it, Bernie. Not interested.

What kind of offer? Good.

I think I can find
a place in my organisation

for an enterprising young man
like you, Jack.

Remember, the king
doesn't give away

the keys to the kingdom
every day.

What if I say no?

Just remember,
the king's fairly handy

when it comes to karate.

I hope the king knows the law,

because he's in violation
of his restraining order.

Hello, Stan. Long time no see.
What have you come as?

A toffee apple?
Sir Francis Drake.

And I'm calling the cops.

Don't waste your time, Stan.

Just think about my generous
offer, won't you, Jack?

Thank you very much.

Hey, daddy-o!

What's a fella have to do
around here to get a drink?

Dave, mind the bar for a minute?
Sure.

Hey, Nance.

The mad hatter's off tap,
queen mum's got one in the line.

Right. No problem.

Ladies and gentlemen,
Elvis has left the building.

Come in, spinner!
Hit it up, ida!

Tails! Yes!

Done your dough.

Well, at least I had a chance.

What's goin' on?

Nothing. Why?

Just wondering what the hell
you're up to, that's all.

Nothing. Relax, Stan,
everything's under control.

Trust me.

No worries, Saddam.

Ok, hit 'em hard.
Heads! Heads! Heads!

I think we have a winner.

Gwen, these pumpkin and herb
scones are simply delicious.

It's a boil-over.

Good on ya, gwenny.

Thank you, thank you.

I suggest... no,
I insist you all try one.

Dave?

No, I don't eat pumpkin.
It makes me spew.

Jack?

No, I don't think I will.
I'll have a go at the sponge.

Have you got planning permission
from the council

for that, mrs Jenkins?

These scones are lovely, Gwen.
Oh!

Such a distinctive taste.

Jack, seeing as how you're so
interested in our fundraising,

you can take these.

What's that? Raffle tickets.

For the meat tray.

Sell 'em a dollar apiece.

It never ends.

Come on, Dave.

Jack, would you pick up
Stan's bowls from henselite?

Eh? He's feeling a bit crook.

Too many home... brews.

Er... yeah. Something like that.

No worries.

G'day, fellas.
Want a raffle ticket?

Not on duty.
I hope you've got a permit.

Here's a tip.

If you're staking out
a bowls club,

perhaps think about
getting an older car.

Something like a Toyota crown.

And hats. You'll need hats.

Maybe a little blankie
to go across the knees.

They're treating us like idiots.

You wait here? Yeah, sure.

May as well try selling some
while you're at it.

Jack! C'mon, Dave.

G'day, mate. Do you
wanna buy a raffle ticket?

Piss off, will ya?

It's for a meat tray.
Get out of it.

Eileen, you are not
gonna believe this,

but we sold
every single raffle ticket.

That's wonderful, Jack. Yeah.

Now, if you
don't mind my asking,

why did you do it?

Do what?

This was left in the fridge,
Jack.

Gwen used it in the scones.

Eileen, I swear,
that is not mine.

Oh, stop lying, Jack.

You were in the kitchen
just before it happened.

It's hydroponic.

It's only been harvested
in the last three days.

And how do you know so much
about the subject, Jack?

Bit of a green thumb?

Eileen, I did a year and a half
of horticulture.

Horticulture? Yep.

For 80 bucks a year

I had a park right here,
across the road from uni.

I thought it was because it was
across the road from your work.

No, I work there 'cause it's
across the road from my carpark.

A year and a half
of horticultural study.

It's an open and shut case,
wouldn't you say, Jack?

I know what this looks like,
but trust me...

It's not mine, and besides,
the effect of that would be.

Minimal to mild at worst.

I haven't seen any outward
signs of unusual behaviour,

have you, Jack?

No. Nothing too
out of the ordinary.

Would you like to see
what your team mates are up to,

on the day before the big game
at bogarra?

Look, there's a teapot.

Where?

There. Look,
there's the spout...

Oh, yeah.

I don't like it.

I'd kill for an lced vo-vo.

I wonder where Stan is.

He's already on the bus.

He's normally keen to pitch in
with the sandwiches.

Er... he's just resting up,
I think.

He's not crook again, is he?

No, no, no, far from it.

He just wants to make sure
he's in tip-top shape

for the big game.

Would you pass the beetroot,
please? That's the boy.

Good on you, norm.
Well done.

'Bye, Ron.
Keep it steady, Ron.

Come on, mrs Jenkins.

Ida, you make us proud, now.

Good on ya, Len.

Hell's bells!

Swear jar, Gwen.

Who are you? What have you done
with Jack Simpson?

Don't start.
Could've finished the job.

You can talk. Don't worry.
Under control.

See ya tonight. Good luck.

Why aren't you guys coming?

We're preparing
the celebrations.

Either way, it's a big night
for the club.

Ok. Cheers. Good luck.

'Bye, ladies.
Good on ya, Stan.

Edgar, you sure
you can drive this thing?

I used to drive the school bus!

Right-o.

Could not drive a nail
through a piece of wood, Edgar.

Ah, bugger it!

You bloody thing...

How'd the trip go?

Oh, knee's shockin', Len.
Shockin'.

And that bloody door...

Excuse me, ladies.

May I ask
what's in your containers?

They're our sandwiches.

What do you propose
to do with those?

Eat them. They're our lunch.
Would you like one?

I'm afraid
I'll have to confiscate those.

What?! No!

Hope there's some cheese ones
in there.

He's stealing our lunch!

I like cheese.

What's going on here?

You have to buy lunch here.
Caterers' contract.

We can't afford to.
We haven't got any money.

Tough titties.

Geez, just like in the ads, eh?

I don't like it.

Ladies and gentlemen, please
welcome cityside bowling club.

I played my first game
of bowls with cityside in 1948

when the great frank gray
was president.

My wife gave birth
to our eldest son, Damian.

And Don bradman led
the invincibles to england

on his final campaign.

You wouldn't believe it,
but Melbourne and essendon

drew in the grand final.

Essendon 7 goals, 27 behinds.
Can you believe it?

That was when footy was played
on a Saturday arvo.

Pubs used to close at 6:00.
Yeah.

Kids entertainment
was riding a bike.

Frankston was a holiday resort.

On that Saturday in 1948,

we beat Brandy creek 21 to18.

But my strongest memory
of that day

would have to be the most
beautiful tomato sandwiches

that I have ever eaten.

I'm buggered
if that bald-headed prick

thinks he'll get away with this.

Let's get out there
and win this game

for the club, for the ladies...

And the best
bloody sandwiches I ever ate.

Let's do it for the sandwiches.

Len Johnson? Yes.

Are you president
of the cityside bowling club?

I most certainly am.

You're under arrest

for the cultivation
and sale of marijuana.

Oh, that's bullshit.

Sorry, officer.
There must be some mistake.

If there is, we'll sort it out
down at the station.

Hang on, you don't need
those there, and...

I think you'll find you've
got the wrong man anyway.

As cityside president
Len Johnson

is led away by the constabulary.

I guess that means he'll be
unable to draw the winner

of the shortbread assortment.

Poor Len.
I mean, Len of all people.

How could they possibly think
he would...

Yeah, but what's going to ha...

Yeah. Ok. Yep.

Ok. 'Bye.

Jack's had an idea. It's a
long shot but it's worth a try.

Nice timing, Jack.

Yeah, it's right in front of me.

Oh, yeah. Clear as a bell.

Come on, Gwen.
We're not here for a haircut.

What are you doing, Gwen?

It takes a minute to warm up.

Guys, I know what it looks like,

but don't give up now -
I've got a plan.

As we speak, Dave
is moving like the wind.

Couldn't go a bit faster there,
could we, Gwen?

We're here to see the governor.

I'm sorry, but unless
you've got an appointment,

I can't help you.

Hello.

We're from cityside bowls club

and we're here
to see the governor

in her capacity
as the patron of the rvba.

Bowls!
Oh, why didn't you say so?

WoThere's no precedent
for this, of course.

You see, my position
is one of ceremony.

While I can request
this of the board,

the ultimate decision
resides with them.

We're with you, your majesty.

But surely just a word from you

would carry considerable weight.

Bowled!

I'll see what I can do.

Oh! That'd be really good.

Oh, sorry.

Would the owner of
brown Cortina

licence plate CDR-0358,
please return to your car?

Your right indicator is still on.

The rules are very,
very clearly stated, gentlemen.

Unless cityside bowls club
can demonstrate

that it can actually field
a team for the final,

I'm afraid it grieves me sorely

to demand their immediate
disqualification.

I have no option
but to disqualify you

and award the tournament
to the bogarra bowls club.

Correct.

Come on, Ron,
let's get out of here.

This game can't be
declared a walkover

until 15 minutes after
the scheduled start time.

Come on, Jack, it's over.

By my watch, there's still
seven minutes left.

Until that time no-one can say
we can't field a team.

Alright. No, the lad is right.

Len might get out early,
of course, for good behaviour.

Have it your way, then.
We'll wait.

You're a clown, Simpson.

You should've accepted my offer.

You could've had your car parks
and lived happily ever after.

Fuck the car parks, Bernie.

Alright, we can wait. Mmm.

Ching-ching!

Ching-ching!

Well, ladies and gentlemen,
we have a late inclusion

in the cityside team.

Please welcome
to the green Cliff Carout.

He's banned for life.

We've just been contacted
by the rvba.

He's been granted
a governor's pardon.

You're stuffed now, Bernie.

We'll see about that.
You've still gotta beat my blokes.

How good can he be?
He hasn't bowled for 20 years.

Gee, he didn't take that
too well, did he?

That's the part of the story
we didn't tell you.

Yeah? The bloke Cliff headbutted...

Bernie.

Welcome back, son.

Ladies
and gentlemen, here they are,

the most formidable team
in this competition.

It's the bogarra bowls club.

It's the man himself,
Edward inchley.

Give it up for Wayne 'Hollywood'
alcock. There he is.

You know him, you love him...
Excuse me!

Go away! Look at him.

It's Julio Gleeson!

And look out, here's the skip.
It's Bert stapler.

Big bertie.

Stapler -
never lost a match as skip.

Oh, shit.

I like the dress, Nance.

Hollywood to bowl.

Come on, baby, get up.

Geez...

Oh, yes.
Yes, that's classic alcock.

Cop that, mate.

And Cliff Carout now.

Cliffy, ease it through.
It's yours.

Oh...

Yes!

Yes, Cliff C`arout
is back in town.

Shouldn't even be there.

Well bowled, Cliffy boy!

Julio Gleeson,
the 'Latin lothario' of the game.

Sorry, ladies, he's taken.

A-ah...

Yes, the Gleeson magic

definitely in evidence
this afternoon.

And I might just mention
local boy Doug pebble, aged 98,

is being awarded a complimentary
lifetime membership

of the bogarra bowls club.

And Edward inchley,
the 'dapper gent' of the game...

Oh, god, it's a good one.

Oh, yes!

Yes.
That's champagne lawn bowls.

Beautifully done.

Good one, ed.

Simpson now.

Just settle down, son. Relax.

Yes, Simpson
surprised us all there.

Yeah!

Now the two skips
moving to the mat

to complete the end.

The scores completely level.

You couldn't slip
a pension card between them.

Bert stapler now.

'El capitan'
as he's known here in bogarra.

Oooh...

Shot, Bert!

Commentator:
Nobody messes with the stapler.

We are in trouble. Another one.

Stan coombs now
inspecting the head.

And this will be the final bowl.

Well, this is it.

Either trail the Jack
or a resting toucher to win.

Couldn't be
in safer hands, mate.

Let her go, mate! Come on, Stan.

Do it, Stan.

WoCome on, Stan.

Come on.

And, yes,
that is a win for cityside!

Extraordinary!

Well done, son. Stan?

Stan!

Well, I think
Stan coombs appears to have...

Get an ambulance!
Stan.

Hey, Stan. Stan!

Come on, big fella.

I think you'll find

Stan was actually unconscious
when that bowl came to rest.

What?!
No, no. That doesn't count.

I'm lodging an official protest.

You're a nasty piece of work,
Bernie Fowler.

I'm afraid
you'll have to speak up.

You gonna be ok?
We'll look after him.

Don't let him get away
with this. Let's do it for Stan.

Yeah. Come on, Jack!
Do it for Stan.

You can't allow it.

It's wrong.

Mr Fowler, we think you're...

Well, our ruling is,
someone else should re=bowl it.

Yeah, well, you're fired,
you hopeless fucking idiots.

Cliff, you take the mat.

Not so fast.

That should be taken
by the next bowler in sequence.

Fine. Good. That's...

Oh. I's me.

Victory will be
all the sweeter, then.

Right. Well, I guess
there's only one thing for it.

Not the flipper. Yep.

The flipper.

I don't believe it,
ladies and gentlemen,

but it looks like
he's going to bowl the flipper.

'Flipper'?

He's going to bowl the flipper.
The boy's a bloody idiot.

That's just ridiculous!

Ah!

What is that?!

I've never seen anything like...

Yeah!

That is amazing!

Jack Simpson
has rewritten the rule books.

That man will be living
“la vida bogarra” this evening.

That is incredible.

Hang on, hang on, hang on.
That's not fair.

I told you!
He's a bloody genius!

Settle down. Settle down.

This isn't the end of it.
I think you'll find it is.

What is that?

That's you clearly in breach
of a restraining order.

Oh, well done, Einstein.

And that, of course,
will render you unfit

for holding poker machine
licences.

You're fucked.

Swear jar, Nance.

The new greenkeeper's here
to see you.

Ah, good. Let's hope this one
doesn't get me thrown in jail.

Oh, god. I spoke too soon.

A little woofy, but I suppose
they'll do for now, boss.

Here's your meat tray, Jack.
Did I win, did 1?

Considering
you bought 800 tickets,

it's hardly a surprise.

What's on your mind, son?
You look a bit worried.

Everything's worked out,
I suppose.

Just pissed off Stan died
thinking I was a little prick.

Stan loved you like a son.

Maybe not a favourite son,
but a son nevertheless.

I'll keep this short, because
Stan was the sort of bloke

who never used two words
when one would do.

But I will say this...

Otan died exactly the way
that he would have wanted to.

On the mat.

Here's to a great bloke.

Just like Stan -
straight to the bar.

Let's go for a roll.

Oh, it's gonna be
a short end, fellas.

Well, that just about
wraps things up, folks.

Although, you know
what these places are like -

they thrive on gossip,

so there are a couple of matters
I'd like to address

before we put this story to bed.

Gwen joined
the local rotary club

where she wasted no time
introducing a swear jar.

Of course,
to distribute the funds,

she naturally had to form
a special sub-committee,

to be chaired by herself.

They finally raised
the price of beer at the club,

which infuriated norm.

He's still complaining loudly
about it,

even though they're only
at genuine 1977 prices.

Len Johnson -

one of the most decent men
I've ever met.

I know he asked me
never to repeat it,

but I've been dining out
on the headbutting story.

Cliffy - what a legend.

The lovely ida.

Stan always said
she was the type of girl

who would have had a pretty
good time during the war,

and still is, I reckon.

Oh, yeah. Here's trouble.

Cliff, Ron, Edgar and norm

went on an end-of-season
bowling trip to corowa.

I'd love to tell you more,
but, well, you know the rules -

what happens on tour
stays on tour.

Eileen is still
the lady president,

and often, when she's
working back late at night,

laments that
she never got that recipe

for Gwen's delightful
herb and pumpkin scones.

Dave - great bloke.

Still can't bowl,
but pulled some strings

and somehow got me
a governor's pardon

for the wheel of cheese
incident.

Thanks, Albert.

Bernie Fowler -
now, there's a case.

I hear he's still taking
the odd bet, but only by phone,

and only if you're sitting
on the other side of the glass

in the visitors' room
down at the jail.

As for Nance, well,
we're still together

and things are pretty good.

Some nights,
when we're in the mood,

the hat and bowling dress
come out in the boudoir.

I feel a little silly, but
she assures me it's very horny.

And me?

Well, I'm still working away
down at cityside bowling club.

Bowls - it's a great game.

In fact, the most memorable game
of bowls ever played

was in 1588,

between sir Francis Drake
and Lord Howard at Plymouth hoe,

while awaiting the arrival...