Original subtitles

Shit.

Don't worry, Bevvie. We'll hunt him down and kill him.

It's amazing who you bump into at the races.

What the fuck are you doing here?

I found them in the glove box on our first date, remember?

God, you were such a bad boy back then.

What happened?

- Did you catch that rat? - What rat?

Price didn't tell you about the Internal Affairs thing?

Must have slipped his mind.

Ah, peak hour.

I'm serious, that's Doreen Bognor, the missing, presumed-dead sister.

Pretty sure that's Dolores.

Doreen's missing and we've got you

talking to her the night she disappeared.

Doesn't matter which way you slice it. That's not a good look for you, Les.

- About time I hit the frog, huh? - Yep.

Did you get all that?

- Dolores. - Wait, Dolores.

- Les, that's Doreen. - Good one.

- I know they're twins but, I mean-- - What do you think?

What do I think? I think Bozo's smarter than his file would suggest.

But not as smart as he thinks he is,

which is precisely why I've got him on the hop.

Don't I?

I've spent a career listening to this stuff.

You develop a sixth sense for it.

For what exactly?

For the precise moment your officer falls for a mark.

You've gotta be kidding.

What, Les Norton? Have you seen the guy?

This is the kind of rubbish that gets a young, fresh-faced

Internal Affairs officer into rough waters.

I'm already thinking you're in over your head.

- I'm a strong swimmer. - And Thumper is a strong kicker.

- That's all the more reason to go hard. - What about the book-keeper?

We know that there's a direct link between the Kelly Club and Thumper.

We agreed that she was the obvious play.

- I can work Les harder. - I'm sure you can.

But if things go tits up, you know that the big redhead can't save you, right?

I don't need him to save me. I need someone on the inside to help me.

And that's exactly what he's gonna do.

So…

- What is it? - Huh?

I've been watching you all night.

- Look like you've lost a testicle. - No, no, no. I'm all right.

Could've fooled me.

It's like I'm standing next to an iceberg. Where's Les gone, eh?

He'd be halfway back to Dirra if he knew what's good for him.

Come on, brother. You've been here, what, ten minutes?

Just give it a chance. It'll get to you sooner or later.

Yeah, mate. It's already getting to me. That's the problem.

I'm in real trouble, mate.

Girl trouble or cop trouble?

Both? Shit, that's uncharted territory.

Don't I know it. Hey. Hold up, partner.

Hey, we're done for the night, mate.

Oi, come back tomorrow.

Are you talking to me?

Yeah.

Are you talkin' to me?

Yeah. We're done in here.

If youse wanna try the bourbon and beefsteak,

pretty wacky this time of night. You might fit in.

Fuck you say? You know who I am?

I can't say that I do, mate, but who are ya?

Let's just say I'm the guy that's gonna sit down and shoot some goddamn craps.

Let's just say that you're not, mate.

Something funny, Smokey?

- What you call me? - Hey, hey, hey, listen, Tex.

If it's not obvious, I'm in a shithouse mood, so I'd suggest

you take the fan club back to the hotel, just sleep it off.

Hey.

Ooh, look out. Strewth.

Looks like he's angry, Les.

He's having a fucking seizure.

- Ooh! Hey! - Ow!

- Had enough, tough guy? - Getting there.

Thought so.

Oooh!

Now you better step aside before I unleash some real carnage.

Mate, I've shat things scarier than you.

- Hey, didn't you lock the bloody door? - Shit, I'm sorry, boss.

This is the bloke I was telling you about.

Les, this is Mick Matthews. He's the assistant coach of the Roosters.

- G'day, Mr. Matthews. - Les, uh…

Les has been working at the club a couple of months.

He come down from the country, you know, wanted to have a crack at the big league.

Honestly, we're down a few big bodies since the immigration raid last month.

With his size, uh,

he'd be pretty fucking hopeless not to be half useful.

Trouble is, they're often big and they can hit hard, but…

Not much between the ears.

- So, you're looking for a game, are ya? - Well, I was but--

You reckon you can hack a training run with the Roosters?

Hack it, he'd love it. There you go, Les. How good's that, eh?

Now ordinarily, Les would've chewed his own arm off

to get a run with a Sydney rugby league team.

But with the current galactic shit fight

that was planet Norton at this particular time,

he figured he had bigger arms to chew.

I, uh, I don't, uh, I don't think so, you know.

- Thanks all the same. - Come on, son, opportunity knocks.

He's worried he can't cut it. No surprises there.

Sorry, what?

It takes size and ticker to play first-grade rugby league.

- It's not an either-or. - Oh, righto. I'll do it then, mate.

Don't do me any bloody favors. What makes you think you're any good?

With all due respect, mate, you're the one making the offer.

Six o'clock, next Tuesday night. Don't forget your mouthguard.

You don't wanna make things look any worse.

Good on you, mate.

Core braced. Roll the head.

Keep going. Breathe.

Two more.

Shoulder roll. And open. Good.

Add the arms.

Now tap.

Jeez, how do you not get a permanent wedgie in these things?

I feel like every time I move, my leotard keeps disappearing up my clacker.

You wear a G-string underneath the leotard so you already have a wedgie.

Oh, wow. That's really smart.

I love the headband. So trendy.

- I'm Chenille by the way. - Oh.

But all the girls call me Chezzy.

Oh, I'm Dolores but all the boys call me Dolly.

Yes. Sweet. Hup!

Is this your first class? I haven't seen you around before.

Oh, um, yeah, I'm not from here

but I've been dying to see what this aerobics biz is all about.

- It's about an hour of dancing. - Right.

Followed by three hours of boozing.

- Only three? - Yeah, yeah.

Seven, eight. And step. Reach.

Four marches back. Step. Reach.

Lift those arms. Up!

♪ Out of mind, out of sight Gotta keep my body tight ♪

Whoo!

It's like he's been carved out of marble.

Mmm. Have a go. Dale doesn't mind. Do you, Dale?

Oh, Christ, it's hard as.

You could slice cheese on it.

I could set you up if you like.

- Are you married? - Oh, okay,

I've been married many times for many different reasons.

But if I'm being totally honest,

right now I'm kind of doing this thing where I'm just the other woman.

It's really good 'cause you don't have to put up with the boring stuff,

cooking, cleaning, you know, just the normal sex.

I'm the one that gets the sexy sex.

Mmm, sexy sex, more, please.

- Mmm. - Mmm?

Darling, don't look now

but there's a funny little foreign man looking at you.

Oh, no, that's just my driver.

Oh. I love a good… drive.

Oh, you're a classic.

If I'd known this aerobics caper was gonna be this much fun,

I would have aerobics'd it up earlier.

This is just it, isn't it? Aerobics isn't about the aerobics.

- And book club isn't about the books. - Mmm.

- And, and-- - And the races isn't about the racing.

There you go. You're one of us already.

You're a fast learner, aren't you, Miss Dolly?

You're not a real fast learner, are you, Les?

I mean, some girls, they come home to find their flat mates

with maybe a nice cocktail ready, a few nibblies before dinner.

Instead I get Les Norton

in a lounge room that smells like a locker room.

I was gonna wash all that shit when I come down.

Can you remind me again why I give a shit?

Well, because guess who's got a run

training with the Eastern Suburbs Roosters tomorrow?

- You do not. - Mmm.

That, that is, I do not know what to say.

I really think that somewhere, deep down,

I always just assumed that you were completely full of shit.

Apparently not.

So, um, how's your fitness levels and your ball skills?

All that, you really reckon you're ready for this?

Lozza, I was born for this shit.

Shit!

- Foghorn. - Les, mate, how are ya?

- What are you doin' here? - Same thing as you, you wombat.

- Thought you hung the boots up. - So did I, but Matthews hit me up.

Yeah, same. But are they gonna let you play with your Zimmer frame?

Why don't I jam it up your arse and we find out?

McCormack! Norton!

Stop holding each other's dicks and get on with it.

Now, Les had been playing rugby league since the under-sevens.

And he'd seen his fair share of training.

Back in Dirranbandi, it consisted of a trot around Murphy's Oval,

a quick game of touch, then repairing to the pub

for a big feed and half a dozen beers.

Training with the Roosters was a bit different.

Harder!

- Argh! - Oh, shit.

- Sorry, mate. - Righto. Outside.

Cocky bastard.

Keep up, old man.

99, 100.

You did say you worked out.

Don't they have weights in Woop Woop?

- Push, push, push, push. - Come on, bush chook, move it.

- Push, push, push. - Step it up!

Not gonna cark it, are ya?

- Not likely. - That's good.

Thursday's session you're running with first grade.

That's when we'll really see what you're made of, hey?

- Uh? - Come back in line.

It's not a holiday.

With me.

- All good, boss? - It will be.

No one comes inside. Do you understand?

Okay, boss.

So, you reckon you're not the rat, eh?

It's someone else, mate. Don't know what you're talking about.

See ya.

You stalkin' me?

You know I'd call the cops if you weren't one.

- You got a minute to talk? - Can it wait till after I pass out?

Unfortunately not. It's about the tape from the other night.

- Look, I already told ya-- - Can you just hear me out, please?

I messed up.

I took the tape from work

and I shouldn't have and now I'm packing death.

Right.

I was trying to do the right thing,

but I might have compromised a major investigation in the process.

If word gets out about this, I'm in deep shit.

Why are you telling me this? Like I'm gonna go blab to anyone.

Because if I'm in trouble, so are you.

Look, Doreen was a piece of work and aside from her sister,

there aren't many out there mourning her loss.

But people are asking questions,

and if you want to get out from this, I need you to level with me.

We know she was murdered.

Did you have anything to do with it?

You're kiddin', aren't ya?

Deadset, course not.

And if you hear anything, you'll tell me, yeah?

Are you asking as a cop or a mate?

It shouldn't make a difference.

To me, it does.

So you reckon you got what it takes to run with the big dogs?

- I guess we'll find out, eh? - My gut says no.

My gut says it likes pies but I don't always listen to it.

See, that's exactly what gets me worried.

You like the sound of your own voice, don't you?

But at the elite level, it's all about how you deal with other blokes.

And I know you yokels don't spell that good,

but, trust me, there is no "I" in "team", got it?

I'm not sure you deserve it yet.

Don't know your size,

so I got, uh, "blimp."

Good-o.

- What is it? - Power of attorney.

Firstborn child. Left gonad. What do you care?

If you want to be a Rooster, you sign here, you fucking hillbilly.

Tell me you can read.

Give me the pen.

Well, well, well.

If it isn't public enemy number one.

Morning, Officer.

I'm impounding this vehicle until further notice.

What are you doing here?

What does it look like, dickhead? Playing footy.

Still a smart arse, I see.

- You got that shit box out of impound yet? - Nah. Nah, it's still in there.

Yeah. Right alongside any sign of your charisma.

I heard on the grapevine

that you did a few days in the big house on the back of that fine.

- Mmm. - See this guy?

He just got out of the boob. I'd check your valuables if I was you.

All right, ladies, let's go. Move it.

Can't hide behind your badge out there, can you, Officer?

Won't need to.

'Cause if you thought prison was hard, you wait for first grade.

Come on, Norton. Get back in line. Back five.

Hold up, hold up.

Let's have a look at it.

Okay, shower time, big fella, come and help him.

I'll get Margot to have a look at it after that.

You redheaded goose.

Hobson was my last healthy prop.

Oh, come on, coach. He come at me with his elbow, tried to knock my fillings in.

- I just stepped out of the way. - Foghorn.

Dust off the cobwebs, big fella. You're packing down

- in first grade this weekend. - Yeah!

As for you, I hope you don't shit the bed

'cause you're taking Foghorn's spot on the bench.

Don't know, mate. I just got here, I don't even know the call.

You're a prop! There are no fuckin' calls.

Surely there's someone else.

Yeah, he's in the shower with a broken clavicle.

You're it, tough guy. Okay, ladies, hit the sheds.

Welcome to first grade, kid.

All his life, Les had been led to believe

that rugby league was a simple game played by simple men.

But that was bush league.

Like so much else about the city, nothing down here was that simple.

Okay, you ready?

Fa-fire away.

In your view, what chance do the Roosters have against the Tigers on the weekend?

How would I bloody know? I just got here, remember?

Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

Uh, what happened to "They're a top team, always tough to beat.

But it's a game of two halves and I reckon we can come out on top

- if we play the whole 80 minutes." - Yeah, right. It totally slipped my mind.

As a boy from the sticks, did you ever dream this day would come?

- It's a game of two halves. I reckon… - Mmm-hmm.

Like, um, like, like, half of it's down.

We're also, like, halfway up.

Oh, just turn your head for me, mate. Oh, no, the other way.

Yeah, right.

All right. Uh, just relax, mate.

You're the Bowen Lager guy, remember?

Just, uh, give us a smile.

But it's also a personal quest for wholeness,

and the individuation of each man.

How many players on the field? Are there 13?

No. Paradoxically, there's just one.

A single organic unit, if you will.

How many "I"s in "team"?

How many "I"s in what the fuck is he talking about?

How did that make you feel, Foghorn?

- I dunno. - Tainted?

- Yeah, I suppose. - Conflicted?

- A little. - Mmm.

What about you, Leslie? What about your mother?

Wha-what about her?

Remember what I said about the maternal, the Yin, to the paternal's Yang?

How is Yang acquired? Where does it reside?

Tell Foghorn your views on your mother.

How is your mother?

Six hours of training? Bloody hell.

- No wonder you're cactus, brother. - Yeah, I didn't even know

what the fuck was going on. Have you ever heard of Oedipus?

- Is that on Oxford Street? - You can take

this professional footy shit, and shove it up your arse.

They're going on about your Yang or whatever it is.

I didn't even know I had a Yang, you know.

Where I'm from, footy is

you try and smash the other bloke before he smashes you.

Still, you can take care of business this Saturday, right?

I probably won't even get a run. I'm on the bench.

Not according to the paper. Here, look.

"Les Norton, first-grade rugby league player."

How good's that, brother?

Truth is, Les could be forgiven

for having taken his eye off the Bender boys,

given what else was going on in his life in Sydney.

But the Bender boys hadn't forgotten about Les.

Oh, no, not by a long shot.

- Have a look, Bevvie, who's this? - See who that is, mate?

We found the bastard now. We tracked him down, Bevvie.

- We'll go to Sydney and fucking kill him. - Yeah!

Nah. What we'll do is we'll chuck him off a roof,

like what he's done to you, mate.

So he has to piss in a water bottle too. Just like you, mate.

Hey, uh, how do we know the fall won't kill him?

- Huh? - Well, we chuck him off a building,

what if he doesn't land on his head like Bevvie?

Oh, yeah.

Who gives a shit, mate?

We'll chuck him off and see what happens, hey, mate?

- Yeah. - Too right, hey?

You stay right there, Bevvie.

Don't go away. We'll come right back.

- We'll bring photos. - See you, mate.

See you, Bevvie.

So I assume we're still subsidizing the Minister at this point, correct?

Yeah, I s'pose.

Seems like a bloody waste of Bugs Bunny, doesn't it?

- Kind of. - Yeah.

Didn't help with me roulette wheel.

Come to think of it, the Minister's not doing much at all for us these days.

If you ask me, he's read the tea leaves and he's packing up before the election.

Probably got one foot out the door already.

He'll have a foot in the grave if he keeps ducking me calls.

Nighty-night.

Hey, nighty-night, boys.

You're not gonna stick around for a drink? Raise a glass to you know?

- Nah, it's been a long night, William. - It's all right, mate.

You know, I'm knackered anyway. I mean, we can have a beer later on.

Are you kidding me? This is a big bloody deal here.

Think about it. Our mate, our own blood nut, Les Norton,

is making his first-grade rugby league debut this weekend.

That's the dream of little children from all over this great country of ours. Well,

except for Victoria and Western Australia.

- South Australia. - Tasmania.

- Northern Territory. - But still,

moments like these, they don't come around that often.

So, I'm gonna propose a toast.

Yep. To Les!

That big red beautiful bastard.

I'm gonna wish you luck, brother.

Seize the day out there, eh?

We'll all be there watching ya.

- Yey. - Good on you, Les. We'll be there.

Cheers, Lezzie.

Thank you.

♪ Ho! ♪

♪ Yeah ♪

♪ Oh, yeah ♪

♪ Hear me call ♪

♪ Do you wanna know ♪

♪ The 99th home position ♪

♪ They gotta know ♪

♪ The 99th home position ♪

♪ They all gotta know ♪

♪ The 99th home position ♪

- Sorry, handsome. Excuse me. - Lozza!

- Hello, Georgie. - Oh, missed you.

Oh, good to see ya!

Meet Price Galese, my boss.

Price, this is Lauren Johnson, also Les's flatmate.

- G'day, Lauren. How are you? - G'day.

- How do you know each other? - I was her first lesbian crush.

- She wasn't. - Actually we did fizzy together.

We win, we leapfrog the Silvertails into fifth.

We lose, you can all go back to being cops or garbos

or whatever you reprobates do in your spare time.

So it's all on the line here. Socks up, jerseys in,

bit of honest violence, have some fun!

Let's go!

Go, go, go!

- Yeah, boys, let's go. - Norton.

You're only here 'cause I put my balls on the block for ya.

Fuck it up, you know what happens?

You say goodbye to fatherhood?

You say goodbye to playing footy ever again.

Have fun. Get out there.

What a big game this is,

especially for the Eastern Suburbs Roosters.

Have to win every single game from now until the end of the season

to qualify for the top five of the table.

The tricolors of the Eastern Suburbs Roosters,

captained by John Tobin

and coached by big Arthur Beetson and his assistant Mick Matthews.

So here we go. We're under--

Round 22 and this is the final game. The winner will find themselves

within spitting distance of the top of the table

but the loser could well drop out of--

Emily, pick up! I need an update. Time's running out.

In the tackle. Fast pass goes straight to McGahan, trying to keep it hot.

There's the replacement, Scotty Bennett.

He slips through. What a run. A great tackle by Wayne Pearce.

There was support inside but he just couldn't slip the pass.

The Roosters just can't seem to break through this wall of Tigers.

It's fair to say Junior Pearce is giving the Roosters nightmares.

Several huge runs in the first half.

He is proving a real handful for the Roosters.

They're just struggling to contain his fearless running and his athleticism.

Coach Beetson's gonna have his work cut out for him just to find a way

he can get his team back into the game

as they head into the change rooms at half-time.

Listen, you lot. We're still in this. We're in this with a shot.

But we've gotta shut Junior down.

He's all over us like a rash.

It's all that clean living he does, Mick. He's deadset bloody bulletproof.

It's what I'm talking about.

We gotta stop tackling him and start hurting him.

Right, teach him to respect his elders.

- So let's go. - Come on!

Let's get all these bastards. Come on!

There you go.

- Hello, Mr. Salita. - I don't know which one the Midori is.

Sort it out between yourselves.

- Thanks, Eddie. - How many's that?

Why? Are you counting?

No, but you don't usually drink that much. It's a bloody long afternoon in the sun.

Loosen up, Price. You only live once, you know.

Live a little. Life, be in it and all that.

Mmm-hmm.

As the two teams come back for the second half,

with the Tigers leading five points to three,

- the Chooks are gonna have to find-- - What?

…if they wanna turn this around.

No good on an empty tum.

Second row, front row, hooker.

Dean Bell. Filipaina. Well picked up by Gibbs.

Thanks, love. The same again.

Standing a bit deep there. Right on that pass.

McGahan, to Dunn, then Spina.

Prick.

The boys from Eastern Suburbs, they just cannot come up with an answer

to Junior Pearce's running game.

- Send him off. - Ohh! Boo!

Coach Beetson is ringing the changes

but it's starting to feel like things

are out of reach for the Roosters, short of some sort of miracle.

Boring!

Yeah! Bring on Les Norton.

I don't reckon he's gonna get a run.

Still a bit of time.

Not to turn it around, he doesn't.

Bring on the blood nut!

Bring on Snortin' Norton!

Georgie!

Bring on Snortin' Norton! Ha-ha!

Billy! Give it here.

Foghorn McCormack, he's found a gap.

He's through. Oh, boy, out of nowhere.

Junior Pearce takes him out with a bone-jarring tackle.

And veteran McCormack, he's not getting back up.

And he's the last of the experienced forwards.

My goodness, Matthews is running out of options,

and look at Foghorn McCormack.

He's somewhere out past Alpha Centauri.

- Oh, bye, Foggy. - Good work, brother.

Now listen to me, you big redheaded rock ape.

Time to earn your keep, yeah?

Yeah, righto.

And, Les, make sure Junior knows you're on the paddock.

Copy that.

There is going to be a reshuffle up front and yes,

it looks like we are gonna see young Les Norton make his run-on debut.

What a baptism of fire it's gonna be for the big blood nut.

Norton takes his position.

Filipaina takes the kick.

And it's taken clearly by Junior Pearce

and he's cutting his way through the field. There's the rookie Norton--

Ooh!

First touch for the boy from Dirranbandi.

Pearce looks out on his feet.

His family would have heard that hit all the way back in Leichhardt.

That's my Les!

Hey, funny man. Remember me?

Have I seen you somewhere before?

- You're kidding! - Off to the bin. Ten minutes.

- Pig's arse. There's five minutes left. - Yeah, funny that, isn't it? Off you trot.

Oh, bullshit.

That looked like a fair shot to me

but the referee's seen it differently.

Get a dog up you, ref!

And the Roosters are down to 12 men.

Lines up the kick.

And the Tigers are ahead in the dying minutes of the game.

You fucking wombat, what were you thinking?

You told me to get stuck into Junior Pearce, so I did.

I didn't mean put him in hospital!

- You should've been clearer. - Should I?

Well, let me be clearer right now.

You lost us the game, you dopey fucking ranga!

It was a fair shot, Mick. Me and the ref, we got history, that's--

History? Don't you talk to me about history, dipshit.

We could've had that game until you buggered it completely.

You're a disgrace to this proud jersey!

- Is that right? - That's right.

A brainless limp-dick

that shouldn't even be allowed in this hallowed place.

Limp-dick. Okay.

Les knew he was on the horns of a dilemma here.

Normally this goose would be sharing an ambulance with Junior Pearce by now

and wondering how his teeth ended up in the next postcode.

But somehow Les had been listening in the psych sessions

and the message had got through.

Fair enough.

But before I go, I wanna let you know

I thought about what you said the other day.

And you're right. There is no "I" in "team".

But there's definitely a "U" in--

And I'm keeping the tracksuit.

It was a moment of truth in the life of Les Norton.

As he put that undamaged idiot behind him,

Les knew he was at last a stranger to violence.

Oi! Bevvie says g'day.

Yeah, I don't think I've seen her since we left school.

Oh, yeah, she got married to that guy from Argentina.

Oh, yeah, I did meet him. Totally gorgeous. Such an arsehole.

Mmm. She was just so in love with him.

- Mmm. - You know, he was, he was her boss.

- She just fell for him. - Yeah, well, bosses can do that to you.

- Get the car, will you, Eddie? - Good to go?

Hey, Billy, sling that on the bar, will you?

This looks like the old school chums are settling in.

Make sure Georgie gets home safe, will you?

- You got it, boss. - All right.

We got a little surprise for you, Lezzie.

Guess where we're gonna go. Up and up. No, you don't.

Oh, fucking bastard.

Get him under there.

Brother, I'm telling you, he'll go down in history

as the most remarkable first-grade debut ever.

Dunno if it's the best but it's definitely the shortest.

I reckon he's really easy to live with.

I mean, if you overlook the mess

and the amount of food he shoves into his face.

And the shit music.

And the whole tight-arse thing.

Other than that, he is pretty lovely.

- Lovely? - Mmm-hmm.

You sure we're talking about the same Les Norton?

Mmm-hmm. Yep. Deep down, he's just Mr. Softy.

Get in there, mate. Get him. Do it.

He's a top bloke. Likes to get himself into a bit of strife sometimes

but can usually handle himself, eh.

- Hope you're right. - Hmm?

Oh, shit!

Get up there, you fucking red-nut bastard. Time to walk the plank.

You fucking weak red nut fucking bastard.

Over we go!

Where we stop, nobody knows!

Watch the red rocket break the land speed record.

Oi! Come here, hillbillies!

Argh!

Get in there. Sort that shit out.

Come on, bruh!

- Yeah! - Oh!

- Oh! - Agh! Agh!

Ah! Oh! Aargh!

No. Not yet.

Yaaah! Ooh! Argh!

This is for Bevvie, you--

Ahhh!

Ha-ha! Still got it!

You all right, Lezzie?

Ahhh!

Come on, Lezzie. Let Dr. Georgie fix you right up.

Calm down! Just cut it out!

I just want to dab.

Dab. Dab, dab.

I left my car at the footy.

I parked it downstairs.

How nice are you!

Come on, don't be silly.

- More. - More?

Whoops.

Here was very dangerous territory.

Les wasn't an expert in the seduction business,

but he'd been around enough to know

that right now, he was on a hiding to nothing.

She was a co-worker, she was up for it

and she was pissed to the eyeballs.

Easy, tiger.

Let's just all just take a couple of deep breaths, right?

You all right?

You all right?

You all right? Here.

Hmm.

What are you doing?

- What are you doing? - Gonna shower.

Mmm? PJs?

- What? - PJs.

Mmm. Hmm!

- Bed? - It's a good idea, I reckon.

With you.

Nah, I reckon I'll get a cab home.

But I could die in my sleep.

Morning.

You actually got some spew on you.

No, I'm joking, I'm joking.

You look ravishing.

I feel like I vomited in my head.

Hmm.

- I'm really not used to drinking. - You don't say?

- Hey, Les? - Hmm?

I remember being naked.

- Did we… - Yeah.

- Oh. - It was amazing.

That we didn't!

Ahh. Considering how up for it you were.

Oh. Kill me now.

Ahh, look, don't worry. It never looked like anything was happening.

Ah. Thank God for that.

Hey, listen, I'm gonna split.

I'm gonna let you

get yourself together.

If only it were that easy.

- Hmm? - Hey, um…

Obviously we should, uh,

- keep last night to ourselves. - I told you, nothing happened.

Like that matters. If Price finds out that you spent the night at my place…

He's gonna hunt you down.

And he's gonna murder you.

No way! Price has the hots for you?

Uh, why is that so hard to believe?

Uh, no, it's not. Just, wow. I didn't see that coming.

- I'll see you later. - Hey, Les.

Hmm?

Thanks.

Hooroo.

Idiot!

- Where have you been? - Oh, I got lost.

Where's my coffee?

Oh! Uh, I forgot. I'm sorry.

Oh! Typical!

- Thank you, Daddy! Thank you! - Hmm? What for?

Uh, the Wham! tickets. How did you even get them?

We're figuring out what to wear. Oh, Mom, no. That's mine.

No, no. It looks good on me.

- Ew! Gross! You're old. - You're supposed to be a mother!

Have youse been to St Vincent's de Paul?

Are you coming as well?

Oh, your father is too, too busy to come to concerts.

No, we're going with that girl that I met at aerobics. Did I mention her?

- Hmm? I'm not sure. - Oh, I'm sure I did.

She's a bit of a westie. But she loves Wham!, apparently.

- She says that she knows you. - Hmm?

Uh, Dolly something or other. Dolly Boggins?

- Not Bognor? - Uh, yes, that's it.

She came over this week and we just clicked.

Coffee!

- I want her dead. Do you hear me? - Oh, calm down, boss.

Calm down? She's stalking my family. I want her in the ground.

Wouldn't it look a bit suss, after the other one?

- I don't care what it'd look like. - Fine. What did she do?

- She crossed the line. - What line?

My fucking fence line!

Keep going, love, nice and slow.

Where's the madam?

Okay, okay, okay, okay.

Keep going. Yeah.

Okay, stop. Now get out of here.

Huh? What the fuck are you doing?

Where's the madam?

Where?

You're gonna have to speak up, mate,

I can't hear you.

- Fuck. - Fuck!

- Thumper? - What are you doing?

Eddie!

Yeah, put down the roscoe and step aside, mate.

That's my gimp.

Oh! You're gonna pull a gun on me on my own turf? That's not cool!

You should've thought about it before becoming besties with the boss's missus.

- What are we now, the friend police? - I'm just sayin'.

You brought this all on yourself.

Yeah? Well, as will you.

If you don't put that little popgun on the floor by the time I get to three.

- Yeah, can you count to three? - Fuck ya! One…

- Two… - Only one to go.

♪ Shot for love ♪

- ♪ Bang, bang ♪ - ♪ Shot for love ♪

♪ Bang, bang bang, bang ♪

♪ Bang, bang ♪

Just a flesh wound, boss.

- In a gimp mask? - Yes.

This is Ray we're talking about? On a sex swing?

Yeah. You've never seen anything like it.

Ray's always thought of himself as a big swinging dick,

but I reckon that's taking things a little bit too far.

What are we gonna do, boss?

I don't understand.

You're a copper.

- Just arrest him already. - You think it's that easy?

Yeah. It's not like Price hasn't done enough illegal shit.

That's just it. He's done truckloads of illegal shit but most of it with me.

I mean, I can't exactly pin him for stuff we did together, can I?

You didn't kill my sister together, did you?

What? No, of course not!

Yeah, well, then, we pin him for the murder.

How? We need a body first.

He's hardly gonna volunteer that information to me, is he?

We make him. Okay, the gloves come off.

We play hardball. We get personal.

I thought you were getting cozy with his missus.

Yeah, I am.

But I mean, really personal.

- Hey. - Hey, yourself.

Oh! Les, they're gorgeous.

This is very unlike you.

- Yeah. - Where did you get them?

Oh, I just, you know.

Uh, no. Not really.

- Why now? - Do I need a reason or…

Yeah, it is kind of standard.

I'll get back to you on that.

Nah, actually, no.

All right. Fine. It's, uh,

because we're mates.

- Oh. Mates. - Yeah!

Something like that.

Oh, no way!

Are you the Bowen Lager guy?