Original subtitles

Welcome to Ireland, it's way under, down under. The sky's always yellow as rain

or shine.

Down in Tasmania, come to Tasmania.

Top he meets heavy, they start to spin. Like a Tasmanian devil in his closest

kin. Down in Tasmania, come to Tasmania.

Mum's alive, why a death noob have gone along?

Molly's all fired up, we'll take place with the dog.

Down in Tasmania, come to Tasmania.

Didgeridingo and Wendell T. Wolfe. Francis X. Bush, lad is never uncouth.

Oh, yeah, don't forget Taz.

sweetie.

Let me get that sugar.

Thanks, Lollipop.

My pleasure. So what's in store for you today, my little dumpling?

We'll need jam for this toast.

I'll get it, Lambie Pie.

Well, I've got an open house at nine. After that, it's the executive women's

round table potluck luncheon. This afternoon is my volunteer shift at the

hospital. Then later, I'll need to whip up that Elvis costume for Molly's school

play. So today is pretty light.

Grape or cherry?

Cherry, please.

It reminds me of your eyes.

Oh, you say the sweetest thing.

So what's on your agenda?

Well, I thought I'd take it easy today myself.

Well, as long as you're not too busy, maybe you could squeeze in some quality

time with your son.

I don't see why not.

There's always time for effectual parenting.

Let me get that sweet potato.

Is there some particular problem with the lad that I'm not aware of?

Well, it's not so much of a problem, really. We'll need salt for those.

I just feel, and you know how I adore him, but he is a bit rough around the

edges. Oh, I don't know. Don't get me wrong, Milkshake. It's just that for his

age, well, he should be able to handle a knife and fork. He really should.

Pepper? Don't mind if I do.

I see your point, but Taz is still a lad.

Oops, almost forgot the ham.

Don't be silly. I'm already up.

Okay, but I owe you one.

I'm sure he'll outgrow it. I was a lot like the boy when I was his age, you

know.

Hmm, you were quite a little devil, all right.

He's doing it again!

He's completely ruined my personally autographed pinup of the greatest rock

since... whoever it was that I last pledged my eternal devotion to.

Now, now, popcorn.

As the spring may be wound a little tight, but he means well.

How can you tell what he means? He can't even talk.

Good morning, pumpkin. How did you... Please.

He's not my brother. It's all just a cruel hoax.

Maybe I could put in a few extra hours with the boy. A sort of a role model, I

mean. You know best, Porkchop. That reminds me.

Nothing inspires a man like your good cooking, my little cheese fritter.

You old flatterer.

He's not such a bad kid.

In fact, if you overlook the odd moments of mayhem, he's a pretty good kid.

Aw, just look at the fuzzy little devil.

Ah, so sweet.

So lovable.

So, what went wrong?

Howdy ho, son.

Got your little sport you devised there.

How about if you and I pile around together? Kind of a male bonding father

son thing, what do you say?

Mine. Not to worry, lad.

I had a slightly more sophisticated activity in mind.

Say a nice quiet hobby.

Come along, son.

Yes, sir, there's nothing like the quiet dignity and deep personal satisfaction

one derives from a good hobby.

Taz? The suitcase?

Here we are, son. My inner sanctum.

Why, just look around at all these keepsakes.

The honors and ornaments of a lifetime of achievement.

You don't know how long I've looked forward to the day when I could share

this with... Why

don't we just save this for later?

Let me direct your attention to this little beauty over here.

Magnificent, isn't she? The pride of the fleet. I've almost finished with her.

There. That wasn't so hard.

Now, why don't you give it a go? And remember, patience employs. That's the

ticket.

Now, not past.

Try to stay calm. I

think we're making real

progress here, son.

Uh -huh. Yes, I do.

In retrospect, perhaps outdoor activities would be better suited to

personality. For you, I've got just two tiny syllables.

Poe Blow.

Giddy up!

The thrill of racing down the field in perfect tandem with your horse, wind

whipping through your hair, out at the ready as you gallop towards the game

-winning cart.

Exhilarating, isn't it? Why, what's happened to your horse, son?

Don't worry!

Perhaps we should move on before the membership committee gets wind of this

little incident.

See these golf clubs, son?

They may be the finest clubs ever made.

Hand forged under a full moon by a Tibetan blacksmith over a volcanic

There's no other set like them anywhere on Earth.

Kind of gives you a little lump, doesn't it?

Now, what I'm about to show you is the family's patented golfing technique.

Why it's so secret, I can't even tell your mother.

Begins with the grip.

Now, try this with me. Many golfers utilize the standard interlocking grip,

involving a simple placement of the blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, yackety,

smackety.

But with our technique, that's only the beginning. Watch while I demonstrate.

And there you have it. Simple, right?

Let's move on to the remainder of the demonstration, shall we?

How dare you become a man?

Make the crowd, son.

Careful with that. It's my lucky pitching wedge.

Nice shot, son.

Why don't you just bury these when you replace your divot?

There's my boy, laddie, son.

Time we had a little talk about your temperament.

Now, you're an emotional guy.

That's nothing to be ashamed of. But as you grow and mature, you've got to learn

to control your temper and not allow your temper to control you.

Know what I mean?

Perhaps we've been too ambitious. You know, gone for too much gusto.

After all, Rome wasn't exactly built in a day now, was it?

I mean, there must be something you can do.

Hold the phone.

What have we here?

Ever build a house of cards?

It's as easy as one, two, three, my boy.

Now you just watch the old master.

Must have forgotten to allow for the wind.

Uh -oh.

Let's not mention this to your mother, okay? What do you say we split a bowling

ball?

Welcome to Atlanta's way, under, down, under. The sky's always yellow in rain

shine. Down in Tasmania, come to Tasmania.

Toppy needs to be gay, start to spin. Like a Tasmanian devil in his closest

Down in Tasmania, come to Tasmania.

Mum's alive, why are dad's never gone along?

Molly's all fired up for take place with the dog.

Down in Tasmania, come to Tasmania.

Didgeridingo and Wendell T. Wolfe.

Oh, yeah, don't forget Taz.

All right, all right. Now, pipe down, you knuckleheads. Let this meeting come

water. Now, let's have everyone's favorite junior executive come to the

Three cheers and a wombat for me.

As chief of all you fabulous mud people, it feels double plus good to usher my

son, Francis X. Bushlat, into manhood on this, his 13th birthday.

Now, in keeping with the mud people's centuries -old tradition, Bushy here

choose one of three tasks to complete his passage into manhood.

One, perform a hostile takeover of a Fortune 500 company of my personal

favorite. Two, accumulate a portfolio of stock with a net yield of no less than

36 % per annum. Or three, trap a Tasmanian devil. Oh, that's it. That's

Number three, that's the one for me.

I, Francis X. Bushlab, shall venture forth, subdue the ferocious Tasmanian

devil, and drag him triumphantly back to camp. In time to catch Wall Street

weak, of course.

But Bushland, no member of the mud people have chosen number three in 150

What father is trying to say is, we're going soft.

Bushland will show the world we're not just a bunch of bean counters drooling

over a profit and loss thing.

Right, Bush Dad?

Knock yourself out, kiddo.

Where is...

blue blazes does one find a Tasmanian devil.

You know, I saw Indians do this on TV once. By listening to the ground, they

could actually hear the buffalo coming.

You'd better be insured, that's all I can say.

Zippity -doo -dah -day.

Say, aren't you a Tasmanian devil?

Whatever doesn't kill me makes me stronger.

That's Nietzsche. Do you know who Nietzsche is?

I thought not.

Leave from the deadly nightshade plant.

Berries from the belladonna plant.

One vial of Elvis wet.

And a guy pull up.

The perfect done frappe.

This'll be like shooting fish in a barrel.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, this will not do. This is an absolute disaster.

What a development. What to do?

And to go.

Lucky thing the potion wears off in four hours.

Prepare to meet your maker.

Waiter. That thrill is all around.

Wait here. I'll get more pretzel sticks.

It might interest you to know, I've concocted a plan so cunning and

you won't know what hit you.

Done!

I got you, I got you! Wasn't that clever of me? You see, I painted the deer on

the rock.

Har har, ho ho, and a hee hee.

the live long day.

You know, it's a good thing I've got brains or I'd be food for some primitive

beast such as yourself.

Oh, don't take this personally.

It's a battle as old as time itself.

Lower forms of life making way for the higher.

Try to understand, you dumb brute. It's not my way. It's, um, nature's way.

Is there no room for reason?

Oh, I say, Bushy, my boy, are you at all close to wrapping this up?

Any minute now, Father.

I dig around to finish you off, but I find wet fur rather smelly. I'll return

when you dry off.

Laugh, laugh.

But, lad, always running!

What a disgrace.

It's almost time for Wall Street week, and I haven't even caught him yet.

My honor's at stake here. I need a strategy. My plans thus far have been

subverted by a fundamental flaw.

Well, ring -a -ding -ding.

Do you know what separates we humans from you animals? Do you? Well, I'll

you. It's reason, you furry lump. Reason that allows men to dominate you animals

with your claws and teeth.

It's now a battle between your 150 pounds of muscle and my 8 ounces of

You're so pitifully outmatched, it's almost tragic.

That's what you call psychological warfare.

why I don't say ah.

You, son of mine?

Hello.

Hand over the keys to the Bentley, father. I have returned.