Original subtitles

- 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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