Jack Irish: Black Tide

My name is Dean Canetti, and I think the technical term...

..for your situation, Gary, is what we call 'rooted'.

Wrong country for half a kilo of smack in your Louis Vuitton.

You planted it, as you bloody well know.

You're looking down the barrel of 20 years.

You know, we got 30 bodies to a 4-man cell.

You got rats crawling up your arse.

Or...your flight leaves in 90 minutes,

and you go back to your swanky apartment

and your small-penis-compensating convertible

if you talk to me.

Feel free to name names.

Levesque. No?

Transquik?

It was planted.

Alright, enjoy your stay at the Bangkok Hilton, Gary.

Wait.

Can I have your attention, please?

This is the final boarding call for all passengers on Flight TG 141

from Bangkok direct to Melbourne.

Your flight is now boarding from...

Thank you, Mr Connors.

Dave, you there? Dave, we got him.

Rolled and boned him. Wait till you see it.

He spilled his guts. There are intestines everywhere.

This'll hang the teflon bastard when we get it out there.

Just hang on a sec.

You there?

Yeah, no, no, no, I'm just, you know,

making sure young Gary gets home safe and sound.

He's no good to us dead, right?

J' Take a little walk to the edge of town

J' And go across the tracks

J' Where the viaduct looms like a bird of doom

J' As it shifts and cracks

J' Where secrets lie in the border fires

J' In the humming wires

J' Hey, man, you know you're never coming back

J' Past the square, past the bridge

J' Past the mills, past the stacks

J' On a gathering storm comes a tall, handsome man

J' In a dusty black coat with a red right hand. J'

It's like a munchkin convention.

Jockeys without horses - never looks right.

But he's not going to get there.

Pax Americana's racing away the last little bit.

Strides away and wins it by...

it's not much of a turnout. Mid-week races at Pakenham.

Dougie'd understand.

Is that the widow?

Yeah. Talk about lucky.

She was at a hens' night, sticking $50 bills in a Chippendale's G-string

while Dougie snored through the house fire.

Hmm...

Well, he probably couldn't reach the smoke alarm to change the batteries.

Who's the white shoe with the tan?

Ricky Kirsch.

From Brisvegas.

Mm, obviously racked with grief.

Reflex action.

Ricky made his first million in the fruit business.

J' ..always see it through

J' Win or lose, we do or die

J' In defeat, we'll always try

J' Fitzroy, Fitzroy

J“ The club we hold so dear

J' Premiers we'll be this year... J'

A bar fighter, your father, Jackie.

Labourer and a bar fighter.

J' We wear the colours maroon and blue... J'

Harry?

See you in the members.

What happened to quarantine prohibiting cane toads leaving Queensland?

Ricky Kirsch? Yeah, I saw him.

What's he doing down here?

I gather he's not exactly on Racing Queensland's Christmas card list.

Talk of race fixing.

How'd we go in the fifth? Pax Americana.

Half a length.

Wouldn't be dead for quits.

Jack fuckin' Irish.

That's for you.

Ah, Brendan, you shouldn't have. Should he, Drew?

Brendan insisted on thanking you himself.

The Crown dropped all charges.

You're the bloke got the result, Jack.

If it weren't for you trackin' down those hookers

I was innocently banging in a three-way on the night of the murder,

I'd have had no alibi witnesses, would I?

My poor missus'd be visiting me in jail now.

Oh, it's a feelgood story all round.

I'd donate a kidney for you, if you needed one.

I really hope you haven't, mate.

It's not mine, is it? A symbol of my gratitude.

My number's on the card there.

Anything you want, Jack, anytime, I'll fix it.

You know, a bottle of port would've done the trick.

I mean it.

'Grateful' don't even begin to cover what I feel.

Wanna have your babies, that's more like it.

Wanna have your bloody babies.

Righto.

Perks, Jack.

Perks. Yeah, thanks, mate. Thanks.

You lookin' for me?

Jacklfish. Well, I'll be buggered.

The last time I saw you, 'bout this high you were, in short pants.

Des Connors. How are ya, fella?

Des.

Yeah, look, the daughter-in-law's been driving me mad

about getting me will done,

and I happened to look up the phone books,

and I see this 'John Irish and I thought, “I wonder

And here you are. And by Christ, son, you're the dead spit of your old man.

Him and me were team-mates, you know, a long time ago.

And you would have to be a ruck-rover.

Oh, Des, I'm considered a bit of an evolutionary cul-de-sac

in the Irish family.

Anyway, come inside.

Hey, Jack?

You wouldn't happen to have a local round here, would you, mate?

And tell me, son, your mother, is she still sound?

Nah, she kicked the bucket, I'm afraid.

Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear. That happens. it's a pity.

She was a good looker, your mum. She was.

I was with Bill the first day he spotted her.

But I guess you've heard that story a million times.

No. No, I haven't, actually.

Anyway, here we are, my other office.

Ah, Bill and I sank some frothies in here, back in the day.

Yeah, I bet you did.

Course, it's all changed since then.

The Fitzroy Youth Club.

Afternoon, gents.

Can you give us a round, Stan? Sure, mate.

Des Connors.

Half-back flank, 53 games for the Roys.

Done your knee. What was that? Round 17, 1969, at Windy Hill?

Just a player. Played with your old man, Jack.

Ah, yes, I did that.

But I was never in Bill lrish's league. Never.

One helluva a footballer was Bill Irish.

Deadset champion.

Prince among men. Godlike, he was.

A hard god. Legs like tree trunks.

What was he like, Des?

Yeah, you must have some stories.

His feet stunk. Hey?

He had very, very smelly feet, that fella.

Who gets the pot of gold, Des?

Everything's to go to a Judy Louise Connors.

That your daughter?

No,no,no, she's my daughter-in-law.

But she's a good lass. She looks out for me.

And not your son? Who, Gary?

Gary's bloody rubbish. They're divorced.

So you don't wanna include Gary? Include him?

He fuckin' included himself.

He's already got 60 grand belongs to me.

Floats in from Thailand, as large as life.

Hadn't seen him in yonks, and he cons me.

Got this mate of his. Got some inside mail on some shares.

Inside mail, my arse.

When was that? Oh, it would've been three months ago.

It was, as a matter of fact. It was the 4th of February, the wife's birthday.

That was gonna be me little nest egg, that, Jack.

I figured I had another dozen or so years left in me

before I hung up the boots once and for all.

What about your house? You own that?

No, no. Gary's mum give it to him.

Why did she not give it to you?

Oh, his lawyer went round and paid her a visit when she was crook in hospital.

She never had a clue what she was signing.

A woman from the bank come round the other day

and said that he'd defaulted on some loans

and he was using the house as security.

They're even talking bloody foreclosure.

47 years I've lived in that place, son.

47 years.

We could go and pay him a visit tomorrow, if you like, young Gary.

Oh, no, Jack. It's not your concern.

I don't mind the drive.

You can tell me a bit more about my old man.

Old Bill Irish, eh?

I could tell you some tales about him what would make your hair curl.

Opened the door and there were two boys in there, they've been shot.

They've been shot through the neck 'cause I saw it.

They're black, they've been there... They're black?

Hey, hey!

Hey, excuse me, you're not supposed to be back here, mate.

Excuse me, you're not supposed...

The Flower Pot Men, eh?

Ooh!

Hey, Lester.

Jack, how many for you? Just one, thanks.

What happened to two?

Uh, two went to Sydney.

Oh, Sydney.

To work on that, with the Pringle.

..Of the top ten rich list.