Original subtitles

The fact that the Premier would have an extra-marital affair

with someone like Cleaver Greene is something else altogether.

Well, I wonder what her husband,

the Attorney General and Police Minister, thinks about that.

Mum, Dad, what's going on?

You...!

The clown was drunk.

I'm pulling the plug, mate. On what?

You and me. This is Scarlet, isn't it?

Cleave, it has to be this way.

The drug squad's received a tipoff

suggesting there may be a trafficable amount

of a prescribed substance...

I mean the 50 bags of coke I've just hidden here.

Subtitles by MemoryOnSmells http://UKsubtitles.ru.

Police! Open up!

Come on, we know you're in there.

Cleaver Greene?

Yeah, you know who I am.

Sorry to bother you this late, but we understand you reported

a child's bracelet stolen some time back?

What are you talking about?

Silver plated, semi-precious stones

and 'I love Justin Bieber love heart'. Very nice.

Not you? Oh, dear, don't tell me.

This is the wrong place. And at this time of night!

Nice shirt.

Come on, boys! We'll be late!

Darling, are you sure? Yeah, it's fine. I can take them.

I don't have my first appointment until 10.30.

Bye, Mum! Bye!

I've got a million things to do around here.

Bye, Mum! Bye!

Rusty!

Ladies and gentlemen of the Board,

doubtless you would agree that it is vitally important

that we confront the variables of our current economic landscape

and recalibrate our thinking

in terms of our client base moving forward.

Excuse my emotion, Madame Chair,

but that, for me,

Are you as a company, moving forward,

as the engine room of the greater organism,

genuinely embracing and honouring

the fundamentals underpinning the goals

expressed in your mission statement?

Are you nurturing and cherishing

your ongoing commitment to excellence at every level,

both in terms of your charter and at your customer interface?

Because that is your mandate. That is your remit.

That is your duty of care.

Outcome focus as a means of achieving positive deliverables

within a realisable factual matrix...

Plus achieving customer satisfaction targets.

KPIs.

Yes, yes! Yes.

And isn't that another way of saying it's about the...

Lawrence Fenton?

Stop it! This is a board meeting.

We're arresting you on charges of trespass.

Look, can I just finish making this point?

It speaks directly to their core values.

No. Come with us. What is the meaning of this?

This gentleman is a consultant. He has every right to be here.

Oh, really? In what field does he consult?

He is a leading...

leading... consultant!

So he was invited to the meeting?

Well, Russell asked him. I did no such thing!

That's what we thought. Come with us, please.

It's Audrey, isn't it?

I think I met you once before at the Branman Energy AGM.

All these words have lost their essential meaning.

That is what my protest is about.

Pick any of these words at random,

shove them in any order you like, they'll make just as much sense.

Off you go.

Read any government document, listen to some corporate guru.

Elaborate, technical sounding twaddle.

It was you who phoned us about the Omnico meeting.

You said lives were at stake, Lawrence.

They are. Our very civilisation is at stake.

This is how the world will end, not with a bang,

but with a diminished verbal response capability.

That's how CIA agents at Abu Graib described a whimper.

The Pentagon describes a plane crash

as 'an unintentional flight into the ground'!

This is what we've come to.

These people are robbing us of meaning, they have to be stopped.

You wanted to get caught. So this would come out in the press.

You read that out without pause, as if it had some meaning.

Stress 'only' and 'consistent'.

The uplift manifests only when positional change occurs within

the context of our deliverable modular units

consistent with our core underpinning fundamentals.

Brilliant. Now just add 'moving forward' and you're set.

Yeah?

Oh, g'day, Cleave. Way too long, mate.

Yeah...

High time we squeezed the nectar out of a few grapes.

Mmm-hmm.

Listen, mate, I'm wondering if you're free for a spot of lunch.

I might be able to steer some work your way.

Yes, today, mate.

See, this is the thing, Paul.

You've told me I should be less structured and more impulsive.

Well, I, I...

'Make impulsive spontaneity your mantra.'

OK, that's... that's entirely my fault.

Um, but at the end of the day, it's about outcomes, isn't it?

What is it you want to achieve?

Um, I want...

I just want to make things right for Barney and the children.

I want to make up for what I did.

Scarlet, you need to stop punishing yourself

for your affair with Cleaver.

That's all in the past. Isn't it, Barney?

Yep.

Are you still seeing Cleaver at all?

No.

So, uh... tell me.

How's your special night going?

Um, we decided... that we might try the roleplay.

I'm a little nervous. I'm no actress.

Well, that was merely a suggestion.

It's about having a fun, relaxed time.

Being yourselves and reconnecting

with those original feelings you have for each other.

What the hell is he doing here?

Is this some sort of bad joke?

How marvellous to see you too, Clover.

Ah, Cleave!

Come in, mate.

Not on the terrace. I have Bridey and Geoff coming over.

Yeah, righto.

Jesus, Damien. I can't believe you brought him to our home!

Ignore the Clove. Sorry, didn't think she'd be home.

She's still pissed about you shagging our ex-Premier.

Oh, yes.

Caused some real headaches for the party.

You know, I once had sex with the Premier's sister,

30,000ft above Denpasar.

I take it you're a paid up member of the Mile High.

No, but I once had sex in a portaloo, if that counts.

Where are we, exactly?

This is my sanctuary, mate.

Yeah, I've got something like this at my place.

I hope this isn't lunch, mate, 'cause I haven't eaten.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, lunch.

Yes, yes, yes.

You said lunch, actually.

I've been doing a bit of pro bono financial work

for the Kid's Leukaemia Foundation. It's CFO by default.

It's one of Clover's little pets, I said I'd help sort out.

Things have gone a bit pear-shaped,

and I thought I'd employ your smarts from the get go.

I don't do commercial law, mate. No, no, this is criminal.

OK. Oh, look, I... borrowed a bit

from the Foundation, purely as a loan.

I haven't had a chance to pay it back yet.

I will. I guarantee that.

But they've called in the forensic accountants

and I think...

that there's a chance I'd be wading in the brown stuff.

How much are we talking about here?

Two mill. Well, a smidge over but I'm good for it.

You stole $2 million from a Kids' Leukaemia Foundation?

Well, it wasn't theft, mate.

I had a couple of investments go sour and...

Oh, yes, I can see those.

And that bitch has me spinning on a rotisserie!

She's given me an allowance, a drip feed from the family trust!

Do you know how humiliating that is, mate?

Sorry, mate, I still haven't moved on

from you stole $2 million from a kids' Leukaemia Foundation.

I don't mean to editorialise here, mate,

but what sort of a man are you?

Look, I didn't fuckin' steal it. It was a loan. I'll pay it back.

I've got a plan. Right.

By that you mean a roughie comes in at 20 to 1 at Randwick...

Love it. You're this, aren't ya? Now what's the play?

There's no play, mate.

You live in a fuckin' $12 million mansion.

You steal from dying kids!

They haven't invented the words to spin language

to get you out of this. You're in deep shit. Sshh!

Keep your fuckin' voice down, mate.

You gotta help me out.

And I can pay you but the wife can't know, otherwise I'm fried.

What's your advice?

Oh! How many times have I told you to ring before you bowl up?

I rang. I rang. There's a message on your phone

saying I'm in a taxi, I'm coming to your place,

I need your vacuum cleaner.

There's a sentence I didn't expect to hear from you.

You look shocking. Did you have a party or something?

Yes, a party celebrating the return

of my Justin Bieber bracelet.

Have you got any food? I'm starving.

Fuzz in?

He is indeed. He's studying, what's more.

He's not going out, he jogs every afternoon.

Amazingly enough, he's not having sex

with any of his female teachers. Ladies.

Um, this is my book club.

Book club, ex-husband, on the way through.

Oh, you're in a book club. How wonderful!

The vacuum cleaner's in the laundry.

Do you know where that is?

And so what happens here, ladies?

You sit around saying things like,

'This novel has a delicious sense of irony,

although I think Mabel's character is more trope than substance.

Could you pass me the quince paste, please?'

Don't anyone engage with him, alright?

Oh, pretty much, and then we open another bottle.

A Thousand Lies I Have Told, JM Doolan.

She a lawyer? Ex-prostitute.

Oh, same, same.

'Doolan's savage first novel

is as gutwrenchingly moving as it is devastatingly funny.'

She's covered all bases, hasn't she, old JM?

Well, it's fiction, but it's clearly based on her own life.

It's a good read. I think it's a really brave book.

And it's visceral and honest.

I mean, she doesn't protect these sleazy, depraved men.

What, hold on, hold on. Back up. Rewind.

Why are all of the menfolk sleazy and depraved,

but the bravest woman on earth isn't?

Wasn't she porking them for coin?

Oh, hang on.

This is the ex you said spent half his life in brothels!

Oh, no wonder he's so touchy.

I told you that stuff in confidence. That was therapy.

No. See, as I've told you on so many previous occasions,

I'm not your therapist. I'm your ex-wife.

OK? And if you're going to offload

your squalid, little personal life onto me,

you run the risk I will repeat it for my friends' amusement.

Old Sally's looking good, isn't she?

No. No. Divorce really seems to suit her.

No. Sally is a neighbour, OK?

And, as such, she is strictly a no-fly zone.

Are we absolutely clear on that? Alright.

I'm getting to the stage where I can recall your good points.

Really? What are they?

Phone ahead and I might tell you.

Come on, what are they?

I'm going to report your mother to child welfare.

There's absolutely bugger all to eat in this place.

There's some old bread in the pantry.

'A necessary, but not sufficient condition'.

What the hell does that mean?

This is frying my brain.

Don't go anywhere near the living room, then, for God's sake.

It's brutal in there, isn't it? Mmm-hmm.

Legal studies.

Herewith, forthwith, pertaining to but not inclusive of...

This is how people control us, isn't it?

Make it all so mysterious the rest of us don't understand.

Yes, that's why law and religion were in Latin for centuries,

but then they realised they could make English

just as incomprehensible as a dead language.

So if I understand you correctly,

you make your living strangling words

so a jury doesn't know which way is up? Yeah.

We also get to wear wigs.

It's why Law's a four-year course.

I could take you through the nuances

over a pub lunch, if you like.

I can't. I want to go for a jog later,

and I've got to get this essay done.

You know, I'm thinking of having your DNA tested.

There you go.

When did it change from 'for sale' to 'selling', do you think?

Wouldn't you love to be in that meeting?

You know, some child genius saying,

'Sale is so passive. We need an action. We need a doing word.'

I bet they're hoping it makes people ignore all the dry rot

and think, 'Shit, we'd better hurry,

'cause they're really selling!'

Ahem. I'm thinking of abandoning my compost sandwich here

and getting a pub lunch. Would you be up for that?

Mr Greene.

We need you to come with us to the station. Oh, come on!

In regard to the abduction of a 15-year-old girl

in Surry Hills three weeks ago. Oh, yes.

This is not how it looks, I promise. OK...

This is police harassment on quite a large scale

and I will not be cowed by this.

You tell Cal McGregor from me,

this will not break my spirit.

Maybe you should get a lawyer. Ow!

Awfully sorry about this misunderstanding, Mr Greene.

Yes, I bet you bloody are. What about some bickies next time?

Barnyard?

Cleave.

You're looking well.

I'm fine, thanks. No, I mean it.

You've dropped a couple of pounds. Back at the gym?

It was about time.

What brings you here?

Never fuck a Premier.

Cleaver!

Lawrence!

As I live and breathe...

Whom have we offended now?

I appear to have upset the board of Omnico.

Brilliant. How?

I believe they were under the impression

they'd invited me to a board meeting

to help them unpick their ongoing commitment to excellence.

So are you briefing anyone in particular these days?

I've been briefing Rob Curlewis on a few things.

Rob Curlewis? Very nice. He's a good man.

I'm sure you'll make a dynamic duo.

This won't require Rob's services.

Why?

Omnico's embarrassed. They don't want anyone to know.

They're not pursuing it.

What about Lawrence's day in court? What about the media?

That's what I said, Cleaver...

Listen, Lawrence, I'd consider myself lucky if I was you.

This is what, your ninth offence?

Keep this up, they'll send you to jail.

Over my dead body.

Ah, Cleaver...

a man who truly understands the value of language.

Certainly no-one distorts it like he does.

Listen, Lawrence, I've got to run. Cleave.

Barney...!

Shame you two have fallen out. I always saw you as inseparable.

Oh, well, Lawrence. We're both to blame.

Happens in the best of barrister-solicitor relationships.

You know, you think you've made a professional commitment for life.

After a while you start taking each other for granted.

His briefs started dropping off... I wouldn't get back to him.

Sometimes, a whole month'd go past and he wouldn't brief me once.

And I didn't even notice.

Mmm, very sad,

but Barney also mentioned something

about you having sex with his wife.

Well, there was that too. Yeah.

Open up! It's the police.

Oh, that is so great for you guys.

How long have you and Jazz been trying?

I want everything we can find on Cal McGregor.

And I mean everything.

I want to know what brand of nappies he wore.

Yeah, hang on. I've got your ultrasound now. Oh!

Oh, there it is! Oh, did you cry?

I would. Particularly anything relating to police harassment.

Hey? I can't see from this. Nicole?

Is it a boy or a girl? Absolutely urgent, Nicole.

Highest priority. OK, I think it is a boy.

Oh, no, maybe it's a girl.

What else would the woman be having, a marmoset?

Oh, look at its... Oh!

Looks like Newcastle's in for showers.

Can, can you...? Congrats on the pregnancy, OK,

but can you please tell my secretary the friggin' sex

or we're going to spend the rest of today

watching a woman trying to pick the winner in a two horse race

that, frankly, no-one outside you and your husband

gives a flying root about. OK, thank you, caller.

Hey!

Sorry. Yes, course it was him.

Yeah, I told you. No-one believes me.

Yep, every day, the same! So, names?

This government is ever cognisant

of the ongoing, ever-present

and ever-real threat of global terrorism.

And we unequivocally applaud...

You sure I'm not committing us to anything?

No. The 'in principle' covers us.

But it still sounds like we are committing?

Oh, very much so. Good.

On arrival at 2:10,

you will formally greet the British Home Secretary,

and Sir Ryan Telford, head of MI5. Mmm-hmm.

Press photos for ten minutes on the steps.

At 2:20, you'll escort them and their party into the building

to be welcomed by their Australian counterparts.

Right...

No cock-ups, fellas.

International coverage, bouncing around the globe.

The city in lockdown.

I want the Cahill Expressway shut down,

Martin Place shut down, Hyde Park shut down.

Anything west of New Zealand, shut it down.

And let's make sure the Feds pitch in their fair share.

You know, it's their show too.

I don't want some ABC Kids program

turning this into a circus.

So I've spoken to the DPP.

Charges are imminent,

but the Foundation has requested there be a suppression order.

Apparently they don't want people knowing

that money, given with the very best intentions,

was actually donated to the drug habit of a rich idiot.

So my name stays out of this?

Prison?

Oh, mate, I'm not going to prison.

Fuck that, I'm not a bloody criminal!

I can maybe argue two of the charges.

Well, what does that mean?

You'll only get nine years.

Or we can plead not guilty to the lot.

And? You'll get twelve.

Are you bullshitting me?

Or we can plead guilty from the kick,

show remorse, throw ourselves on the court's mercy.

Which'll get me what?

Seven. Five, if the judge is in the same men's club as your wife.

Cleaver, I thought you were helping me out.

Mate, I feel like I'm stepping outside my comfort zone

a little here when I say this, but what you did,

even by my relatively low standards, was totally immoral.

Yeah? Well... how immoral do you really think it is?

Thanks very much. I'll see you inside.

Madame Home Secretary, you travel so well.

Thanks very much. See you inside.

And so security remains, for all of us,

the critical issue directly confronting us

in a global context as we move into an uncertain future

where the nexus between terrorism

and the vulnerabilities of global interconnectivity

become ever more virulent

and threaten our core values of freedom and democracy.

Hang on, I've lost my fuckin' shoe!

I cannot begin to understand

the humiliation the Attorney General must be feeling

at this point.

Here we have the self-styled champion of law and order

at the most expensive inter-governmental security forum

ever held in this country,

our skies littered with helicopters,

our city a no-go zone, and what happens?

A retired English teacher manages to slip through the cordon,

have drinks with the British Home Secretary

and the head of MI5,

then sit centrestage with all the dignitaries

as Cal McGregor lectures us on the need to be ever-vigilant.

Isn't it time this Attorney General did the honourable thing

and resign?

What do we know about Fenton?

Another one of these pricks

who make a sport out of crashing high-profile events.

Yeah?

Well, he's not gonna get any fuckin' publicity on my watch.

Barry? Cal. You gotta pull your digit out, mate.

This little arsehole's fucking humiliated us.

There's bugger all I can do, mate. I'm State.

All I can get him on is a trespass,

he'll walk out with a 50-buck fine

and the press'll be hanging off his every word.

Barry, we have to gag this prick, pronto!

I mean, surely there's something you can ping him for

in the Anti-Terrorism Act.

Who's that lunatic judge

that droned on about the Saudis having the right idea,

chopping off the hands?

Beesdon? Beesdon.

He's insane.

Barry, Beesdon's still on the bench, isn't he?

They have to be stopped!

We must rise up.

We'll have nothing left if we don't stop them soon!

Fenton is one of only a handful of people

to be charged under the Federal Government's

Anti-Terrorism legislation.

Oh, God.

Now I'm not allowed to comment on this case.

Safe to say that it seems

that it was way, way more than a prank.

There are some very, very alarming elements to this,

and I thank God for the great men and women

of our intelligence services

who may have saved untold lives.

No, you've got every right to be angry. Yeah.

Look, I'll write some emails. I'll call you in the morning.

OK.

That was Emily, Ella's Mum? Mm-hmm.

You know that school that we spend so much money at,

year in, year out,

that should be delivering the best possible education?

I know where our children go to school.

Well, Emily just told me something

that confirms what the kids told me on Tuesday at our debrief.

Your what?

My sharing time. Focussed one-on-one with the children.

You refer to it as a debrief? It's just a term.

Sure.

Do you know what they do on wet days, at lunchtime?

They watch movies.

On Tuesday, they watched Wind in the Willows.

I don't follow.

Emily thinks it's nothing but child minding, and she's right.

I mean, surely it's the school's responsibility

to provide a proper educational indoor activity

when it's wet.

We send our children there at considerable expense

to get core learnings, not watch cartoons.

Core learnings? I don't see the problem.

Well, Emily and Denise are ropeable.

Really? 'Cause of Wind in the Willows?

Maybe we should set up some sort of victims support group.

It's not funny. What if we didn't let our kids watch cartoons?

Yeah, but we do!

And we bought them Wind in the Willows three years ago.

I grew up on Bugs Bunny, and I've survived relatively intact.

Babe, what is this about? You're a terrific Mum.

You don't need life-coaching tips from Emily.

Have you thought some more about going back to work?

I don't want to go back to the Bar.

I couldn't.

You're a brilliant woman.

The Bar's not your only option.

I'm here now. For them, for you, 24/7, 365.

You hungry? Yeah.

Will you shut up!

Hello?

I told you never to phone this number again.

Lawrence is in serious shit here, OK?

You have to put aside personal feelings.

Who is it? Dad.

From Fiji?

Yep. I can hardly hear him.

No, no, no, no, you mustn't come here.

Listen, I'm going to be at the Imperial Hotel

tomorrow at midday, OK?

And I will stay there for one hour.

If you don't turn up, I will understand

and I will never bother you again.

Has he been snorkelling? Yep.

G'day, mate.

Oh, Barn, you've got to be kidding!

Happy birthday for last week, by the way.

Thank you. Can you get to your point, please?

Alright.

You have to brief me on this.

Come on, in your heart, you know it's the only way.

I'll find the right man.

Oh, sure.

Look, I'm sure there's millions of barristers

who'd kill to be briefed by you.

I thought you told me solicitors were a dime a dozen.

I was angry. Hurt. Lashing out.

I said things I never meant.

What I need to know is what you want.

I made a promise to Scarlet.

Damn it, Barney!

If you want me to walk away, I will.

But I need to hear it from your lips.

It doesn't matter what I want. It's how it is.

From your lips. Do you want me to walk away?

Don't do this, Cleave.

OK, there's the door. I'm walking out.

We won't need to speak again.

Maybe just, I don't know, send me an occasional card

letting me know how you're getting on.

I am standing up and walking out now, right?

Here I go.

Oh, Jesus, this is unnecessary.

Tell me what is happening, please.

When can I get out of here?

They've refused bail.

But they can't, can they?

I just committed trespass. A fine. A reprimand.

No, you've been charged with offences

under the Anti-Terrorism Act.

I'm not a terrorist!

You are under this Act, my friend.

Pretty much anything you do under this Act is terrorism.

You wear a loud shirt after dark in Adelaide, they've got you.

You just couldn't resist this one, could you, Lawrence?

Not after I read their press release.

It was an ocean of mixed metaphors.

Well, I'm afraid there's nothing metaphorical about it now.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,

you may have read some highly irresponsible articles

suggesting that trials such as this,

conducted under the Anti-Terrorism Act,

resemble witch hunts.

Let me set your minds at ease.

Although there will be some aspects of this trial

that are different,

these proceedings remain very much open and transparent

in the best tradition of the Australian Judicial System.

Ms Crown?

Your Honour, my opening remarks

may touch on certain matters

pertaining to national security.

Therefore, I would like to respectfully request

that my opening address be held in camera,

without the public.

Of course.

Clear the court.

Your Honour, this is an opening address.

It's not evidentiary.

My client is a retired English teacher.

The Crown, by its own admission,

cannot adduce evidence

that my client was in possession of even a BB gun,

let alone a handgun a bazooka, a landmine...

Your Honour, we have made our position clear.

We do not submit that Mr Fenton had the intention

of committing violent acts himself.

He had the intention

to break into high-level private security meetings

in order to glean information that he could share

with like-minded individuals

who would then carry out acts of terrorism.

OK, let's humour my friend, Ms Crown.

What was this information that my client was seeking?

What precious secrets drove my client to endanger himself

in such a way?

The defence requests access

to all records and transcripts of this conference.

Your Honour?

I'll reserve my decision.

Let's move on.

Yes, the vet was ordering in some Prozac for our dog, Rusty.

That's right.

The dog has behavioural problems and is very anxious and frets.

No, no, listen.

You hear that?

No. No, that's the strange thing. I AM here more often.

Let me get this right.

Your name is John Smith. That's it?

You're not John Hubert Smith,

John Du Jean Beaujoin Smith?

It's just John Smith? Yes.

Just Agent John Smith, then? I see.

Your Honour, may I please read the Crown's witness list?

Now we've got John Smith in the box.

Next we've got a John Jones,

then Jane Jones.

I wonder if those two are married.

Mr Greene, you know perfectly well

that it is in the public interest

that active intelligence field officers

giving evidence must be allowed to keep their identities secret.

Move on. Move on quickly.

Mr Bond... I'm sorry, Mr Smith.

You were in charge of security procedures at this symposium.

How did Lawrence Fenton get inside?

It appears he may have joined the British delegation

on their way in,

and we presumed him to be one of theirs,

and they presumed him to be one of ours.

And so how long after observing my client

in conversation with the head of MI5 and ASIO, etc,

did you twig to the possibility that this former English teacher

was not in fact a crack member of the Johns?

We can do without the sarcasm, Mr Greene.

These people are our gatekeepers against a very dangerous world,

and it behooves you to remember that and to respect them.

Duly behooved, Your Honour.

Our attention was alerted

shortly after Mr Fenton proposed a birthday singalong

for the British Home Secretary.

That's it.

A full transcript of everything said at the forum,

minus some deletions for reasons of...

National security.

It's like the night sky. Everything's been blacked out.

Shit. Scarlet can't see me on the news.

Cleaver Greene?

Look, I can't speak directly to the press about this case,

but let me just say this,

that when a bloody-minded government

and an irresponsible minister

trample on the democratic rights of a citizen,

it is one sorry day for this country.

I'm sure it is. I'm here to serve you with a summons.

Pardon?

OK, I'm sorry, but this little game is over, alright?

You can tell the Attorney General...

He's the Shadow Attorney General, isn't he?

Who or what are you talking about?

David Potter, the man suing you for defamation.

He is the Shadow Attorney General.

What?!

Harry-Sorry-Fuckwit is what?!

Ohh!

Harry-Sorry-David Potter hid like the coward he is

under the cloak of Parliamentary Privilege.

Yeah, taken completely out of context.

No, said verbatim by you on radio.

And then you repeated every word

in your stupid 'look at me aren't I clever' blog,

and I quote,

'Potter's dishonest nature and contempt for common decency

makes a mockery of the position he represents.

He is not fit for public office.'

You can't accuse me of not being clear.

How many times has Barney told you not to drink and blog?

You know in the eyes of the law,

this is now published throughout the planet?

How much does this whingeing toerag

think he's going to get out of me?

Word is around a mill.

I can prove all this stuff. Oh?

'Mr Potter's psychological issues

are clear evidence of a man

who has a troubled relationship with his penis.'

Alright, that one's a little trickier.

Mmm.

Honourable Lord Barnaby,

you do me humble honour in allowing me to pleasure you.

Tell me, are you a peasant girl?

Yes. I...

I can't.

Hey, love, it's fine. I feel like a total dork too.

No.

Let... let me try again.

It matters. No, this is our special time.

Love, there's nothing special about Wednesday night.

We're not Geisha-Lord Barnaby kind of people.

Then can you tell me what sort of people we are,

because I don't know anymore.

We're just your ordinary

root-every-now-and-then kind of people.

A leg over on Saturday mornings when the kids burst in on us.

The occasional grope in the laundry.

I'm looking for something that I can hang onto and say,

'Yep, this is me. This is who I am.'

But nothing sticks.

I don't have a clue who I am.

Hey.

I don't... I don't trust myself.

God...

God, I've even sent the dog insane.

It's a Labrador, Barney. They use them as guide dogs.

How can I be expected to mount a proper defence

if I can't get a full transcript? This is nonsense.

I wonder if you'd think that

if the full content of these papers

ever got into the hands of terrorists.

And suddenly your children were seized from your home,

and tortured and butchered before your very eyes.

Pardon?

I refuse to compromise the safety of our nation's children

because you want to grandstand in my court.

Let me just quote you one of the few surviving exchanges, alright?

This between the British Home Secretary and the head of ASIO.

'Sarah, have you been to our Botanical Gardens?'

'No, I have not.'

'Ah, a shame. The begonias are in full bloom.'

Then six lines are deleted.

Then the British Home Secretary says, 'I love begonias.'

Now...

..what do we think was in those deleted six lines?

'No, I've not been to the Botanical Gardens.

We launch a nuclear strike against Pakistan at 0800.

But I do love begonias.'

Cleaver, it's not relevant what was said.

My client's future rests

on establishing exactly what was said, Meg,

and nothing of any consequence

appears to have been raised at all.

The fact that begonias was the predominant topic of conversation

is neither here nor there.

Isn't it? Listen.

If you were to illegally wire-tap somebody's phone

and all they happened to talk about was the weather,

that does not mean you haven't broken the law.

It just means you didn't get what you wanted.

Precisely.

Let us resume.

Let's cut to the chase, Lawrence.

What the hell possessed you to bust into this forum?

What these so-called important people are doing with words,

the way they use language to actually hide what they mean.

It's a form of corruption.

The writer Don Watson calls them 'weasel words',

where corporations and governments

complicate what they say so much

that there is no longer any accountability or integrity.

Once we stop believing in what is being said,

once language loses its power to connect us,

civilisation is finished.

Thank you, Mr Fenton.

They have to be stopped!

We must rise up!

We'll have nothing left if we don't stop them soon!

It's obvious from this footage

you knew when you entered the building

that you were doing so illegally.

My concern was that they were using...

Did you knowingly trespass, Mr Fenton?

I admit I trespassed, but only to...

Yes, it was about words. We heard you.

'We'll have nothing left if we don't stop them.'

Now there's no hidden meaning in those words, is there?

You seriously expect this jury to believe

that you penetrated that forum to what?

What? Correct their spelling?

Your Honour. No!

I don't care a jot about their spelling

or their split infinitives.

Would you tell this court,

did you also illegally attend meetings

at Omnico Communications, Durmack Chemicals

and Pachen Software?

Objection, Your Honour.

We all know where my friend is going with this

and we all know she can't go there.

Yes, she can.

Yes, I gatecrashed those meetings.

Funny choice, given that Omnico,

Durmack Chemicals and Pachen Software

each have direct links to the defence forces of this country...

Objection, Your Honour.

My client has never been charged with any of this.

Overruled.

I don't care what they do. They're all clones to me.

I put it to you

that your intent has never been some Quixotic cause,

but in reality, you sought to discover

these companies' deepest secrets

in order to undermine the stability of this country!

You gotta be kidding. The man's an English teacher.

Mr Greene!

Mr Fenton, on May 14 last year,

did you publish in your blog

the actual minutes of a Pachen Software meeting

in which they discussed their potential role

in the deployment of a military satellite?

I only published the bit where someone said,

'motivating support within a stringent,

regulatised umbrella agreement'.

Yes or no, Mr Fenton?

- Yes. - Jesus, fucking blogs.

So you admit you leaked information from a secret meeting

that anyone from a hostile power can now access...

'Hostile power', Your Honour?

Be very careful, Mr Greene.

Let's drop the harmless pedant guise, Mr Fenton.

I don't think anyone's buying it.

Clover, very good to see you again.

You are looking gorgeous as ever. Cut it, Cal.

I know very well I'm the last person on earth you wish to see.

You know why I'm here.

I got a fair idea.

I've given more time and money to the party

than almost anyone else in the state.

You worked in my father's electorate office...

I... I... Five years.

I know all you've done, Clove.

And we all love you. But...

..you're married to a turd.

So I keep hearing.

And what he's done, no-one can forgive.

It's not about him!

Your eldest goes to ALC, doesn't she?

Mmm. You know that world.

How do you think my two girls will survive there

if this ever becomes known?

And how the hell do you think the charity will recover?

I have worked so hard for them...

We are keeping it under wraps, Clove.

None of us want this to get out.

The moment he's sentenced, the gloves will come off. You know that.

It will go viral.

Give me an out, Cal.

My daughters and I don't deserve this.

There must be some arrangement we can come to.

Some way of... massaging this?

There he sits,

the most dangerous criminal mind of the 21st century.

This man, who taught Austen and Dickens

at a private school for 27 years

before he took an early retirement

so that he could nurse his dying wife,

they want you to believe

that he is capable of tearing down the walls of this country.

Are we really that afraid and untrusting now?

Isn't it interesting that when people talk about

the measures needed to protect freedom,

they are usually discussing ways of limiting it.

Ladies and gentlemen, the Crown has no case.

All my client committed was a minor trespass,

and they know it.

Lawrence Fenton's sole mission

is to have us say what we mean as clearly as we can.

Please, you cannot send a man to prison for that.

It is very important for each of you to make up your own minds.

My own private view is of no consequence here.

You will have observed

the open and transparent nature of the trial,

and much of the prosecution's case is conjecture.

But, as Ms Crown points out in her fine summation,

Australia is at war, like it or not.

We have enemies

who hourly threaten our borders and our values.

The question then is -

could Mr Fenton's presence

jeopardise our security in this dangerous climate

by exposing certain vulnerabilities

which could now be known to our enemies?

Of course, only you can decide that.

Get in.

Tell me, did you pay Beesdon,

or are you just relying on his dementia?

I understand you're representing Damien Trengrove.

That's my business. No it's not. It's mine.

The man's a piece of fungal rot.

At last we have common ground. Mmm.

The problem is, if he goes down,

then a very fine charity goes down with it.

So, what if, by chance, it doesn't make it to trial?

How could it not?

Well, instead of closing the doors,

the Hyacinth Foundation could stay open

with one very generous donation

of 3.1 million from the Trengroves.

A million more than was stolen.

Damien never finds work again,

Clover Trengrove divorces him,

and the fungal rot dies sometime in the not too distant future

in a puddle of his own vomit.

What am I expected to do?

The DPP will obviously need a submission from you,

incorporating no end of eminent medical opinions,

especially one from the leading Professor of Neurology,

which argues that Mr Fungal Rot

was prescribed a relatively untested medication

that may well have fogged his reason

and caused a pattern of compulsive behaviour.

You want me to cover your arse. Well, the party's arse.

But in return, I will reluctantly call off the dogs of war.

OK.

But you have to help me with this bullshit Fenton case.

Oh, it's not got nothing to do with me.

But as an impartial outsider, I would say he's fucked.

Close the door behind you, will you?

And don't push your luck.

Jesus, is this creep going to get away with this?

This one is particularly creepy, isn't it?

I even liked your cannonball better.

What is it?

What?

Your friend's baby.

Um... Oh, a boy. Gonna call him Dylan.

Nice one.

Yep.

Lawrence Fenton, I sentence you to a period of seven years

in a maximum security prison.

You'll be eligible for parole in five years.

Please remove the prisoner.

Five years! Are you out of your mind?!

Mr Greene! How dare you?!

All rise. I am...

I'm... I'm...

Could use a beer.

Yeah, I gotta get home.

Goodbye, Cleaver.

Beesdon's insane.

There are a thousand grounds of appeal from day one alone.

No.

No?

I'm on the front page of the papers, am I not?

People have to notice now.

Ah, the tide and the affairs of men, Cleaver. Ours is turning.

Maybe I can better win my war from here.

Besides, it's quiet. I get to read.

No-one seems interested in me as a toy boy.

May I read you something?

It's an extract from a letter I carry.

'Sand ate into our skins like an abrading stone,

yet we felt nothing.

Instead, we stood in ox-dumb awe,

diminished and humbled by these weathered, ancient blocks

that were once some ruler's

vainglorious grab at immortality.'

My grandfather wrote that to my grandmother from Cairo in 1915.

He left school when he was twelve.

Worked all his life on the railways.

That's how people USED to communicate.

Oh, God.

What have you done to yourself?

I bring manifold gifts.

A vacuum cleaner,

and a moron's guide to constitution law for Fuzz.

He's out jogging.

Which is why I suggest that you always ring first.

Oh, shame.

Could have done with his company.

Seems like the minor threat of terrorism

worries people more than tidal waves of stupidity.

I'll call you a taxi and talk to you later.

Can I come in?

Yoga group, OK?

Who was it?

No-one. Someone flogging something.

Cleaver. Julie.

Missy.

Fuck!

Taxi!

You're right, you know? It was complete shit.

Take it into court... You're a disgrace of human being!

The last year's been really tricky,

what, with taking over Mick's business and everything.

Yes! Yes!

Please! Please!

Do you think this could effect your profile in a way?

Leave her!

Damien Chambers? My chapter's bigger than yours.

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