All language subtitles for Rake - 02x02 - R vs Fenton.Bluray-BWB.English.edit.Addic7ed.com

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.