All language subtitles for Rake s03e05

- Hello, Maria.
- Hello, Barney.

Is there anyone in this party
not involved in graft?

That's not rhetorical, by the way.

I don't want to say goodbye
like this.

I have to go back to the States soon
to finish my novel.

All your ex-clients prefer me.

I am sorry that you can't get a gig
on the Commissions, but I did try.

It's beautiful, mate. You're getting
a 390 grand annual tax writedown.

I don't pay tax.

What the...? Who's there?

Our friendship really comes to life
in the courtroom, doesn't it?

And I've got a surprise for you.

Brand-new producer for the show.

You're right - I am a morbidly
obese, non-literate fraud,

so let's do this.

Oh!

Yes, Larry, there are several
key members of my party now

in, um... in prison, and there are
one or two awaiting trial.

Uh, five, isn't it?

This is not a numbers game

and let's not suggest
that my party is dead,

not by a long shot,

not while I still have
dedicated sitting members

like, uh... uh... Clayton Post
and, uh, others who have...

Thank you. Harry Potter.

David.

May I have the butter?

Mm.
Uh-uh.

No - margarine. We need to keep an
eye on Barney's cholesterol.

Barney's good cholesterol's
off the charts and his bad's 3.4.

Barney doesn't have cholesterol.
Barney has cancer.

The butter.

Alright.

Nicole, do you mind?

And the jam.

Hello, everyone. Good morning!

Yes, Mum, there is talcum powder.

Corruption hangs over my city
like an all-pervasive smog.

There are five Royal Commissions
and seven ICAC hearings.

2,000 people have been called
before the various commissions,

and there aren't enough lawyers in
this town to deal with the stench.

You right, Paulie?

Uh... yep, just...

Paedophiles, drugs in sport,
corrupt pollies,

and now my new favourite,

the Orphanos Royal Commission
into banks.

Now, I thought our banks
were there to help us.

That's what they tell us
in their million-dollar campaigns.

Apparently not.

Not when I pay a bill
on the correct day

and some yobbo tells me he didn't
process it until the following day

and then asks me to cough up
for a late payment.

I mean, what country
are we living in, friends?

The United States of Self-Interest?

I'm Cal McGregor
and I'm on your side.

So you've been called before ICAC.

Clayton, you have no fucking idea

of the raw viscous sewage
you are dog paddling in, do you?

Why? Because you're a moron.

There are no silks left.
You are on your own.

Nilson. Connor? Even Lennox!

All on Hill.
Lennox is on Orphanos as well.

You are a cockhead.

Morrison. Delroy?

There's no-one,
and you're still a cockhead!

Alright, forget the silks!

An ordinary homegrown barrister
should suffice.

Chris, do we know anyone
who has a child studying law,

thinking about studying law,
watched LA Law?

Fred.

Ah, Cleaver.

Haven't seen you and the other guys
around Marcel's recently.

W-well, we are all out of that now.

End of financial year.

You were probably wise to hang on.

God knows, with all these
commissions,

we'll be needing
a lot more deductions next year.

Great times.
Yeah.

So you and the fellas were just
in Marcel's as a tax write-off.

Well, naturally.

We're tax lawyers, Cleaver.

Naturally.

So, uh...
who's got your shares now, mate?

Ah-woo... wah!

Gotta go.

Nicole!

Yes, what?

Did Jeffrey Newton
photograph himself masturbating

and then actually ejaculate?

Yes, post photo.

Right, so how did his sperm
stay attached to said photo

after he mailed it to his ex?
Surely...

Nicole!
..it slid off.

Help.

Or was Newton testing
the gravitational pull of his sperm?

This is my life now, isn't it?
This is it till the end of days.

Everybody else is out there
dining out on commission dollars

and I'm back here with clodpoles
shoving bits and bobs in their anuses

in shopping malls,

or mailing their sperm about town
with Australia Post.

It's a niche market, isn't it,
Nicole?

I gotta go.

How did his ex-wife even know
it was his sperm?

Newton wrapped it in plastic
and told his ex-wife it was sperm.

Of course he did. Of course he did.

Sadly, I'm gonna need a photo
of Newton's knob.

Cleaver Greene's chambers.

No, I'm sorry. Mr Greene's
tied up at the moment.

That second attachment
goes with the Braybrook file.

Braybrook! Oh!

Sorry, it's madness in here.
What's it in regard to, please?

ICA...?

ICAC? Yes.

Uh... you're in luck.
I've just seen Mr Greene walk by.

Just for the record, mate,
the only reason you're here

is 'cause you're the last lawyer
left in this town.

And the only reason I'm here,
Clayton,

is, I presume, you must have found
yourself in a plenitude of faeces.

How's the old backbench
working out for you?

I had nothing to do with this land
deal. Nothin'.

Right, but you were
the Planning Minister at the time.

Did you oppose it?

Coal seam gas mining on the water
table - of course I opposed it.

Yet, strangely, it was still
approved.

Harry. Wasn't expecting
to see you here, mate.

Uh...

But great that you could,
uh, drop in.

Those two-faced pricks,
Dennis Andrews and Geoff Turner.

They stood to make a fortune.

Their wives own
half the bloody land.

Is there any record of this
incredible robust opposition to it?

Oh, yeah - reams of it.
David'll back me up.

OK. So, fellas, why am I here?
Really.

Andrews and Turner keep dirt files.

There may be a few anomalies
in my register of interests.

Right, well,
I'll need a copy of the register.

Is that absolutely necessary?

It's a matter of public record,
you dunderhead.

I mean, I can go home and Google it.

Fuck me sideways!

I mean,
how were you meant to know that?

I mean, you were just the Finance
Minister in the previous government.

You can go now, thanks.

Ah.

Very good.

I know you think
I'm gonna bollock you.

I know your anus is probably
tightening even as I speak.

Or maybe it's loosening.

I don't know how you respond
to a bollocking, Clayton,

and, quite frankly, I don't care.

Do you know where I go now
during party meetings?

To a beach.

A long, white, sandy, empty beach.

There's palm trees

and a soft cooling breeze
just taking the edge off the heat.

And the water's so clear
you can see forever.

Look - there's a beautiful woman,
in a sarong and a black bikini top,

walking alone.

Can you see her, Clayton?

And I wave to her.

And now she's waving back.

I'm gonna go to her.

Maybe even swim naked with her.

Mind-boggling sex can't last.

I mean, I had good sex with David

and occasionally dynamite sex
with Josh.

But this was...

I think I just need to put it
in a shoebox and store it away.

It never happened.

But it did.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned
and I'm really getting off on it.

Hello, Cleaver.

Bobby. You're back.

Yes, thought I'd come home
for my last set.

And my sister's not well.

Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, mate.

Where's Frank?

Christmas Island.
Pastoral care duties.

It was always a big thing for him -
refugees.

We're all refugees
in one way or another, Bobby.

Indeed.

Frank specifically said
if Cleaver comes in

to give him his best wishes

and to ask him about the blob
on the end of his bed.

Oh... Frank's always been rubbish
at keeping secrets.

Anyway, this is all about me,
isn't it?

So... I had sex last night.

After all this time, finally.
Congratulations.

And it was mind-blowing.

I mean, really mind...
Just incredible.

Her tongue, her mouth, her lips.

She was riding me

and, you know, it goes
really sort of gentle and soft

and then really hard...
Oh, my God.

She does this sort of circular...

Cleaver!

You're in a confessional box.

Yeah, I know, so I'm confessing.

I'm confessing to
having had incredible sex,

which is a sin in this context,
is it not?

Your point is?

Well, my point is, is it?

I mean, is it a sin?

Is it wrong or bad
to have incredible sex?

And if so, why?

No wonder Frank
went to Christmas Island.

You know, I wish I was born
in the Middle Ages, Bobby.

You'd be dead with bubonic sores
by the age of 23

or with a sword up the clacker.

None of this dragging
your sorry arse about for 40 years,

sort of, you know,

'I'm really fretting about where
we are in our relationship

at the moment.'

You there, Bobby?

There's something else
Frank suggested I mention to you.

Yeah?

I've been called
before the Royal Commission.

Really?

Great sex is a giant con trick.

It's not real.

Hang on. This is it.

This is my novel.

There must be thousands...

..actually hundreds of thousands...
no, actually billions of women

whose lives have been ruined
by great sex.

Anyway, Sarah, call me back
when you get this.

Two priests in my diocese
25 years ago have been charged.

There is a suggestion
that I covered it up.

Why would they suggest that?

One of the priests was my brother.

Brother, as in brother-brother -
not brother.

He followed me into the priesthood.

Wow. Your folks really
not keen on grandchildren?

So did your brother abuse these kids?

I now believe he did.

And did you know about it
at the time?

No.

You know, if the Catholic Church
was an insurance company

with this PR profile, it would have
been liquidated 20 years ago,

but because you've got God
as your front of house...

The Church is not always able to
act. It is not that simple.

It seems pretty simple to me.
Celibacy.

I mean, who would have dreamt up that
as a part of a business model?

What sane bloke wakes up
with a rock-hard walloper

and thinks, 'Ooh, note to self,

must not touch that
for the rest of my life'?

Cleaver!

I have had sex.

And, yes, with a woman.

What, didn't do anything for you?

It made me question
everything I believe.

Then why didn't you cash in
your chips?

She was married.

And I was her priest.

And I can tell you for a fact
that's a sin.

Oh, and the blob
at the end of the bed...

..that's you.

Scarlet.

OK, what?

I saw a woman on the beach
and realised she was you.

I'm meant to be
at the Orphanos Commission.

And I thought you were paranoid

about us being seen together
in public.

Turns out I had nothing to fear.

Does anybody here
know who I am? Anybody?

David!

The fact is no-one know who I am.

I am Leader
of the State Opposition.

Have you seen me?

You see?
This is crazy...

You want more proof?

We could climb the Harbour Bridge
and do it up there

and no-one would even notice.

Just stop this!

I'm quitting as Leader.
Quitting parliament altogether.

Alright. Which commission
and what have they got on you?

I've done nothing.
That's the point.

I'm never gonna be in a position
where I can do anything.

Don't even know
what we stand for anymore.

Getting arrested, I think.

Just make your case.
It's what you're good at.

You can come back.

It's what you want, isn't it?

Well, all I want now is you...

..in a sarong
and a black bikini top.

And you have to go.

Leader of the State Opposition

just got snogged by
a beautiful woman!

Anyone?

Hey.
Hey.

The multimillion-dollar
casino and entertainment complex

is destined to become the biggest
in the Asia-Pacific region -

once the State Government
give their final approval,

which now seems inevitable.

This site has been
all but abandoned

by the city and its citizens.

This place should be part of
a modern, vibrant city.

Why are you wearing a hard-hat?

There's no construction going on.
It's still a park.

It's how these people operate.

They put on a vest and a stupid hat

and suddenly everyone thinks

that what they're selling
is actually happening -

it's a fait accompli.

Mm. Mm.
'Heard about the new casino?

Well, I have. I saw them
working on it on the TV.'

That's what I dedicate my life to -
winning.

Do you want to talk about things?

Not really.

You?
Not really. No.

Well... whatever should we do?

OK.

Uh-huh, yeah.

- You just wait for this.
- Oh, no. Oh, no.

Yes.

Yes!

Unbelievable.

You've made a pact with Satan.

I thought I might have at one point.

This is good, isn't it?

Yes. This is good.

There he is, the master and
commander, Captain Bligh Phillips.

Nice little bank you got here, Seb.

Cal, how are you?

Cal, you're looking wonderful.

Show is going gangbusters.

Yeah, yeah, we're really starting
to kick some goals.

Newspaper column's underway.
Thank you very much for that.

No - thank you.

So, how's the investment banking
business going, Seb?

Stupid question, really, what with
the fees you blokes charge.

Do you just make 'em up on the spot?

No, we consider them very carefully.

Course you do.

Help yourself
to some kale and lemon juice, Cal.

Very alkaline.

Good for a man
who suffers from bloat.

Oh, fuck me,
that tastes like sputum.

Cal, you don't think,
in the current tentative climate,

you could ease up a little
on our sector, do you?

So that's what
this little chinwag's all about.

My remarks on air.

In your sector, I am assuming
that a tentative climate

is one where you only make
five billion profit?

There's something wrong
with your water, pal.

Chia seeds. Marvellous antioxidant.
They swell in water.

Cal, there is a Royal Commission
into banking.

We really don't need
one of our own hitting us.

You were a little rough on them,
sweetheart.

Oh, well, no, if Tik thinks
you've got a point, Seb,

I'm hearing you.

It's just that my bank
has a certain exposure

which if openly canvassed
in a public forum could... kill us.

What do you mean 'kill'?

It's hardly an expression of nuance.

In the course of laying the
groundwork for my casino,

Seb's bank, kindly, on my behalf...

We needed a teensy little fund
to cover unexpected costs

without it becoming a public thing.

Hmm... A slush fund.

So is this a garden variety slush,
or, um... rural estate slush?

Harbourside estate, Cal.

Oh, dear.

Would you please stop spitting?!

One of our young traders,
a genius with numbers, James Horner,

has been called before
the commission.

I know him. Was he involved?

How do you know him?
He's a friend of Paul's.

Paul who?

Oh, God, my idiot stepson?

You don't think that drug-fucked
nightmare piece of shit...?

You have nothing to worry about.

The drug-fucked nightmare
and Horny...

..they just do chemicals
and go to parties.

I've got no idea
why I've been called.

It's... It's a fishing expedition.

Man, this is the market.
There are no rules.

No rules. It's chaos, man.
That's the new order.

Right. Hope you're not suggesting
that for my opening address.

They have nothing on me. Alright?

Besides, everything I've done
is... it's kind of legal.

Kind of legal. Great.

Mate, is there any... Do we just...?

Uh... is there kind of...?

Any...?

Look, you know,
I just want you in my corner.

For luck.

Alright. You know commercial law's
not really my thing.

I know absolutely fuck-all
about banks.

You don't need to know anything.

Bligh Phillips clearly
aren't worried,

otherwise they would have
set me up with a silk.

Exactly.

Yesterday, nothing. Today,
he has three Royal Commissions.

He.....is back.

What three?

Banks, priests and pollies.

Young Mr Horner has asked me
to open batting at Orphanos for him.

Wasn't it you that said the world's
being run by 12-year-olds

driving Aston Martins,
producing nothing but wind and debt?

Doesn't sound like me, no.

What are the hearing dates?

No idea. Oh, 12th for those guys.
But what does it matter?

You know, the single distinguishing
feature of the Royal Commission,

my friend, is that it lasts
for a thousand years

and that is how we will bill them.

Jeffrey Newton -
your far-from-Royal case.

Oh!

So there are a number of items
they might question.

They come to around 1,300 bucks

and we can probably argue our way
around most of them.

But your real sticking point
is item number 23,

and that is...
$17,000 for chiropractic care.

That was an insurance claim.

I fell down some stairs - at work.

I'm covered by
the Parliamentarian Scheme.

Yeah - except that I've discovered

your chiropractic caregiver's name
is Pussy Patten.

Said she was a healer.

There's certification
on her website.

I've been in parliament
since I was 34.

I've got close to three million
in super.

If I get convicted of a crime

that attracts a sentence
of over 12 months,

then I not only lose my seat,
I lose my super.

So if I get busted
for anything over a grand,

then that's it, over, mate.

Oh, wait, so there's
a sort of credit limit

on crime in parliament, is there?

Is that a sort of annual thing
you can top up?

A grand a year, and then down
the track you can murder somebody?

Mate, I can't fix this shit,
I'm afraid.

Can this wait? I don't have my diary.

Oh, there's not much to remember.

The first one, banks,
is Thursday 12th May.

I know that. I told you that.
Yes, you did.

And the second one
is Thursday 12th May.

No, you've already given me that.
Yes, I know I have.

And the third one
is Thursday 12th May.

OK, what are you telling me?

And they're all scheduled for
the afternoon, which is great news,

because you have morning in court
with Jeffrey Newton

and his famed
ejaculating penis photos.

OK, you're gonna have to shift them.

Oh, yes, I'm sure they will shift
three Royal Commissions for you.

Now, which one should I tell
to go elsewhere?

I nominate the pissant pollie.

No, no, I'm not letting
any of them go.

I've lost 11 months of my life, OK?

This potentially gets me back
somewhere, you know?

Well, you can't do them all.
Yes, I can.

Two of them are in adjacent buildings
and the third is nearby.

I can do this.
Oh, yes, I'm sure you can.

Look, you don't understand...

A lot of the time
at these hearings...

Barnyard.

I'm worried about you, mate.

Here am I,
out and about, in all of this,

in the hustle and bustle,
you know, having a ball,

and there you are, at home,
puddling about in your own stench,

watching ads for steam-cleaning
products on the telly.

You know, you should be here
with me at the coalface.

You can't do three Commission
hearings and a case in a day.

Yeah, you can.
Nicole told me. No, you can't.

Yes, you can.
No... Oh!

Look, the way I figure it,

the first one, the morning one,
straightforward. OK?

It's 15 minutes, max.

And my role in the other ones
is basically hand-holding.

It's not like they're trials
or anything.

The way I figure it,

I'll be there in one hearing
and you can be off at another.

If there's anything that
urgently requires my attention,

just send me a little text.

OK? And I'll be like, 'Oh... Oh!

Oh, I'd better go off to that.'

And then I can sort of amble
over to that one,

you can mosey off to the next one.

It's straightforward, mate -
straightforward -

and, I think, very good for you.

Good for me.
Very good for you.

What the fuck's a debt instrument?

Cello that spits out bills?

I'm not expected to know this shit,
am I?

Does Clayton have
another register of interests?

I don't know.
Do you want me on this or not?

This file's incomplete, mate.

Well, life's like that,
isn't it, Barnyard?

It's not actually a box of chockies.

Just gotta man up. Grow a pair.

Oh.

When I say 'grow a pair'...

Here.

You know,
if you ignore the 17 grand

of non-chiropractic work
by Pussy Patten,

I reckon you can probably
get your pollie's filching

down to around the $930 mark.

Really?
Yeah.

You know...

I went to this chiropractor up at
some market near Byron one time,

he's an American guy.

He waggled a healing stone
over my back

and rang a prayer bell
for 45 minutes.

Charged me a full whack.

Was he qualified?

Well, he had a certificate.

Hey. Newton's penis
is running 45 minutes late.

Damn!
Worse news - you've got Coote.

Oh, my God, the human windsock.

Oh!

Oh, well, look, not even Coote
can make this case long.

Newton's pleading.

He'll get a restraining order
slapped on his cock.

He'll get 120 hours of community
service and a $1,000 fine.

Now, listen, this is how we play it.

You cover me at Pollies first.
It'll only be opening remarks.

Then it's 20 minutes before Priests,
and then on to Banks.

That one could be tight.
You think?

All rise!

Mr Greene.

How does your client plead?

Guilty as charged, Your Honour.
Proceed.

Jeffrey Newton was married to Lynne,

but they were separated two years ago

and my client suffered
a great emotional stress

and had what the tendered
psychologist report describes as

'a crippling nervous breakdown

manifesting in behaviour
quite out of character.'

Why are you babbling there,
Mr Greene?

Speak slowly. It's not a race.

I... I-I beg your pardon,
Your Honour.

I wasn't aware that I was doing that.

The fact is that my client
knows that he did wrong,

he deeply regrets it, and he is
receiving ongoing counselling.

Hmm.

This is a very serious matter.

Here we have an act

where a man
took photographs of his privates...

..then ejected bodily fluid on them.

Yes, Your Honour,
we have admitted to all of that.

All well and good.

But the fact remains
his ex-wife has suffered,

and in that suffering,
the key question posed

is what punishment is commensurate
with the nature of this offence,

and the hurt...

..the hurt perpetrated
by the occasioning of this crime?

Madam Commissioner, we are ready to
call the former Environment Minister,

Clayton Post.

Mr Post, do you have counsel here
with you today?

A society is only as good
as the laws that bind it

and our capacity to live
by those laws.

Mr Newton's actions have put himself
out of contact,

yes, with the mores that unite us.

I'm going to retire now...
and reflect on this.

I will return shortly with a ruling.

As I am shortly to embark
on an annual leave...

..I will present
my judgement this afternoon.

All rise.

Has any...

..one in this court been to Majorca?

No?

I understand you opposed

the granting of a mining lease
to Cadamaya Holdings?

There were eight separate
environmental impact statements

and I believe that the corrupt
intervention of Des Andrews

on all eight occasions led to my
decisions' being overturned.

Madam Commissioner,

it is well known that Mr Post
has a vendetta against Mr Andrews.

Objection.

It was my client who discovered

a number of very troubling anomalies

in Mr Post's register of interests.

Madam Commissioner,
this is a smokescreen

to try to misdirect the attention
of this great commission

towards some inconsequential
miscalculations

in my client's accounts.

Go! Coote's out.
Call me when he's back.

..unexplained expenses here

totalling many thousands of dollars,

including inappropriate use
of taxis, rorted lunches

and, of tremendous concern,

the hiring of what appears to be
a prostitute on taxpayers' money.

Uh, may I inquire which prostitute
we're talking about here?

I... I think you'll find her name
listed as 'Pussy Patten'.

I thought as much. Uh, Ms Patten
is actually a chiropractor.

I have her certificate of
qualification here

if I may tender it...

Tender it...

Shit, shit, shit!

Limbok Chiropractic College
of Wisconsin. What is this?

A joke of some sort?

My client has a spinal injury
at the juncture of L5/S1

as a result of falling down
the stairs at Parliament House.

We have an
orthopaedic surgeon's report here.

His radical therapy
with his... therapist

was a last-ditch effort
to rectify L5/S1 prior to surgery.

This is clearly a bogus certificate.
Surely she's not registered.

Well, now, you might be right there.

Months of treatment
and his back's no better.

But how is a member of the public

to assess the veracity
of anyone's qualifications?

I mean, when you go to the dentist,
you see all the degrees on the wall,

how are you supposed to know
if they're any good?

This hardly constitutes graft.

Are we to judge
the healing skills of someone

simply because she has the rather
sweet and feline name of 'Pussy'?

Of course we bloody are.

Oh... Oh! Oh...

You alright there, Mr Greene?

Madam Commissioner, I wonder
if I may just have a moment, please?

No, no, no, check in on Priests,
then back to Pollies!

How's Penis?
Hurry!

So given...

..the gravity of this,

but accepting
there were mitigating factors...

..I hereby issue
a 12 months restraining order,

impose a fine of $1,000

and further sentence Mr Newton to...

..100...

No.

120 hours of community service.

Thank you, Your Honour.

One down.

On reflection...

..I find it hard to believe that
no-one here has been to Majorca.

Hey, watch it!

Just to remind you, I'm David
Potter, Leader of the Opposition.

Anyway, I have, uh...

This is not a numbers game,

you know, and let's not suggest
that my party's dead,

not by a long shot...

After a lot of heartbreak
and talking it over...

Agh!

My baby!

Look out!

Barry? Sorry.

My calculator needs new batteries.

Yes, Mr Greene.

Madam Commissioner, surely this is
an issue for the relevant insurer

to take up with my client
if they so choose.

This ought not to be a distraction
for this Commission

as others in the room would have it.

The reality is,
this would never have appeared

in my client's register of interests
if my client had suffered his fall

anywhere other than
the stairs of Parliament House.

Further, the relevant insurance
company paid my client's expenses.

Now why would they do that

if they thought
that these expenses were bogus?

They, more than anyone,
sweat the detail on this stuff.

Clearly my client
was not the only one

who thought that Ms Patten
was the real deal.

Mm. Very well.

I am inclined to think
that this is a matter

which doesn't fall within
the purview of this Commission.

And given the fact
that Mr Post has repaid

the $930 in errant expenses,

let's get back to the main game,
shall we?

Two down.

Hey, mate, I've gotta get through.

There's been an accident, mate.
He's still stuck under there.

Priests. I'm needed at Priests,
the Royal Commission.

OK.
I'm a lawyer.

Quickly.
Yeah, good. I'm quick. Marvellous.

Excuse me, guys. Whoa.

Two down.
I know. Banks now.

Rendezvous at Priests.

There is
a toxic culture in most banks.

Bligh Phillips is no exception.

It pits trader against trader,
and sometimes the...

(Hey!
What are you doing here?

You're supposed to be resting.)

..and quick results, but
not necessarily the best results.

One of these men - Jerome -

later went on to have prolonged
episodes of clinical depression,

which ultimately led to his suicide.

So... I'm really sorry,
there was an accident outside.

So they're not up to you yet?
Not quite yet.

No, good.

..in relationships of trust

with elders who take advantage
of their status and their position.

I think I've dropped something.
I'll be right back.

The other client in this case,
Mr Commissioner,

has been treated for self-harm.

Nicole, when you knock up my bill,

charge everyone
for the whole day, OK?

Yeah, course it's legal.

I'm doing three days' work
in four hours.

I should be paid a premium.
Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Back around the other way.
Yeah, right.

What are you doing?
She's in there.

Who's in there?
Scarlet!

Oh, shit! Go, go, go!

One more and then you're done.

I became aware of a secret operation
within the bank.

A whole series of trades

that weren't
appearing on any official report.

How are we doing?

When I asked some questions...

Dunno. Just made my
bosses a quarter of a mil, though.

..a 'matter of nuance'.
Fuck!

Is that an app I can download?

When I really started
asking questions,

I suddenly found
that I was unemployed.

I call James Horner.

Don't worry, mate.
I've got your back.

I put it to you
part of Ms Kendall's testimony

was that a certain trader
went off reservation

and established
a private slush fund,

a fund kept secret
from the entire senior management

of Bligh Phillips Bank.

Were you that trader?

Uh, no.
I don't know anything about that.

Mr Commissioner,
Ms Kendall was a middle-level trader

that my client was promoted
way above.

This is nothing
but unsubstantiated bile.

Really? Mr Horner, I'd ask you
to look at your bundle marked 'BB'.

This is a physical record of trades

made using the password
'Foucault8X'.

Is that your password?

It was, until you just said it.

What is this?

I've... I've never seen any of this
in my life.

Really?

But given the password access,
they would appear to be your trades.

Well, they may appear to be, but
they most certainly bloody are not.

$120 million worth, made by you,

and none of them appear

on any trading reconciliation
documentation.

Mr Commissioner, my client and I
will need a brief adjournment

to consider these documents.

We'll resume in 20 minutes.

All rise.

I don't know what the hell
is going on, I promise.

OK, calm. I tell you what, you go
over the new documentation.

I'm gonna be back in five

and we're gonna go over that stuff
in real detail, alright?

Don't worry,
I've still got your back.

Your back is all that I've seen!

Barnyard! Turn your fuckin' phone on!

You've gotta turn your phone on,
mate!

Keep your phone on,
for the love of God! Alright?

You were the bishop
responsible for this diocese

at the time of the suicide.

What is your recollection
of this case?

I am, sadly, constrained

by the extent to which
I can say much about this case.

I was bishop at the time,

and I was also acting as counsel
for the archdiocese.

For my sins, I have a doctorate in
law specialising in human rights.

OK. Well, as a priest, then,

did Father Robert ever discuss with
you the contents of a letter

that was sent to him?

A letter the boys wrote,
detailing this abuse?

Again, as a priest, I am bound
by the sanctity of the confessional.

I'm sorry, but, as you can see,

I'm caught in an awkward
ethical double bind.

Gently.

Gary, you say your friend Jerome
wrote Father Robert a letter,

detailing the abuse.

I helped Jerome write it.
We trusted Father Robert.

Were you with Jerome when he gave
Father Robert this letter?

I seen him go in the office.

But you didn't actually see him
give this letter to Father Robert?

No, but he said he gave it.

But there is a chance

that he may have had second thoughts,
isn't there?

I mean, he was a frightened kid.

Now, you've already said
that in your opinion

Father Robert was a good bloke,

that you thought
that he would protect you boys.

Why would he suddenly change
and not do that?

Well, none of us
could understand that.

Mr Commissioner,
this is a moving story,

but it is not one that would stand up
in a court of law.

There is no copy of the letter,
the evidence is circumstantial,

and there is a very real danger

of damaging the reputation
of a very good man.

The priests involved
have all been arrested.

Yes.

I am inclined to agree, Mr Greene.

Thank you, Mr Taggart.
You may step down.

OK, so what do we know?

The bank is fucking me.

Those are genuine bad trades
and I am all over them.

But I didn't do them.

OK, but why would the bank
be fucking you?

You're the goose
that lays the golden eggs.

I don't know.

But my guess is Bligh Phillips
have gone and done something

with $120 million,

and whatever they did,
they don't want anyone else to know.

I don't see any other reason.

I'm being set up. I'm a fall guy.
OK, but why you?

Because I trade at that volume.
Consistently.

OK, so if the bank's fucking you,
then we fuck the bank.

What shit do you have on the bank?

Nothing.

I trade.
I don't go over their accounts.

Alright.

Then we get
the forensic accountants in,

we defend any charges vigorously

and, if absolutely necessary,
then we do a deal.

There are options.
He doesn't need a deal, Cleaver.

He needs a competent lawyer
who can get him off this bullshit.

I'll tell you what we need, Paulie.

We need to buy a little time.

We need a little quiet time.

I need a number 23.

A number 23? Are you kidding?

It's an oldie but a goodie.

We can now confirm
that the man injured,

in what police are describing

as the most selfless act of bravery
they've witnessed

is none other than State Opposition
Leader, David Potter.

Oh, no.

It's three years since this hero...
Please.

..fought off an armed gunman
to protect the life of a neighbour.

Oh, no, not again.

A spokesman at St Vincent's Hospital

says he's in a serious
but stable condition.

I know everyone out there
is praying for his recovery.

An emotional Selwyn Cresswell,
David Potter's personal...

Do you want to go see him?

Why would I want to do that?

..incredible acts of courage
are an almost daily occurrence...

Ooh.
Hey.

Oh, this is a game changer, mate.

Jess reckons we could get as much
as a 20-point bounce out of this.

We are back, boss. Big-time.
Brilliant move.

We got them to say
you were serious but stable.

The idiots were going to say
you were satisfactory.

Oh, happy days ahead, mate. Yeah.

I was on a tropical beach.

I saw you on the news
and I piled in a cab

because your courage will never
fucking cease to amaze me.

Bobby.

Hey, Cleaver.
Come in.

Ah.

Let me, uh... let me get you a drop
of vintage holy water, mate.

Sit down.

Here I was, hoping your matter
might drag on for months

and it was over in a blink.

I was wanting to get my hands on
a bit more papal wealth, you know?

Maybe a Titian or a Raphael.

It's behind you, mate.

There's nothing to worry about.

You've got another 20 years
of celibacy to look forward to.

I've been sitting on this
for 32 years.

I don't want to read that, Bobby.

No. No, nor did I.

I want you to present it
to the Commission.

Why?

I wasn't thinking straight.

I was under a lot of pressure.

The married woman that I was
involved with, she got pregnant.

And, what, had an abortion or
something?

We had a daughter.

But the daughter does not know
anything about that.

And I made the mistake
of confessing this to my brother.

Drop this, mate.

You're a good man.

A beautiful, soft-hearted kid came
to me and pleaded with me to help.

He's dead... and I'm here.

Now, can you imagine for a moment

that those twisted pricks
stopped with him?

Don't do it out of guilt, Bobby.

Guilt's not so bad.
It can make you act.

It's fear of shame,
and public shame -

that's the real weakness.

That's what cripples us all.

Yeah, but going to prison
doesn't absolve it, does it?

I've had a blob on the end of my bed
for 32 years,

and it's high time
I made the bastard go away.

But you're right about sex, Cleave.
It's a beautiful thing.

Breasts, legs and lips and eyes.

Only serious sin worth committing.

Do as I ask, please.

Mix us a drink will ya, pal?

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