Les Norton

It was somewhere back in '85

when the Les Norton show first came to town.

Am I going to have trouble with you, Les Norton?

Wouldn't have thought so, sir.

Welcome to Sydney's best-kept secret.

Jeez, I'm pretty sure these joints are illegal up in Queensland.

Price owns a club, which makes him the unofficial boss of the Cross.

I'm just a concerned citizen

who likes to engage with me local community, that's all.

- (GUNSHOT) - (SCREAMING)

For God's sake, girls,

I left Queensland so less people would try to kill me, not more.

Mate, that lady is Doreen Bognor, brothel queen of Western Sydney.

You take those young Thai girls, for instance.

They should've been finishing off high school, not fat Australian men.

Price is a big handball for you, right?

Oh, fair go, Eddie.

Gotta be at least 20 feet deep in there.

- What have you lost? - Keys.

It's not gonna go unnoticed that she's gone missing

within two weeks of her setting up shop inside your patch, Price.

Free country right?

When I manage to track her down myself,

they'll have no choice but to bring me into the fold, right?

Welcome to the family, Les.

Ever heard the expression "Trouble in paradise"?

Because that's exactly where Les Norton found himself

that perfect Sydney morning.

On one hand, he was kicking back at Australia's most famous beach

with a light nor'easter brewing and an entire day to kill.

But on the other hand,

his arrival in the big smoke

had brought with it a few unexpected complications.

Through no fault of his own, mind you.

Still, Les was an optimist at heart.

He'd only been there two weeks

and already he'd found somewhere to crash,

somehow to pay for it.

And he had to admit that as far as places to lay low were concerned,

the harbour city wasn't half bad.

Yeah.

Not half bad at all.

You know, you gotta question the calibre of a bloke

that flogs another man's boots from the beach.

I question the calibre of a bloke

who wears boots to the beach in the first place.

So it's my fault now, is it?

- I'm the victim here, remember. - (SCOFFS) Fashion victim!

Look, I told you, brother, just head up to Grace brothers.

Get yourself some dress shoes.

A good pair will set you back, like, 15 bucks tops.

What am I going to do with a pair of dress shoes back in Dirranbandi?

Ever gone pig shooting in a pair of dress shoes?

Ah, so it's a practicality issue. Got it.

Nothing to do with them cost money or anything.

Tight as a finger in a bum, aren't ya?

It's not about the money, William.

It's about the principle.

Besides, these are doing me just fine as it is.

Not sticking around long enough for it to matter anyway.

What are you ladies gossiping about?

Just telling Magic Johnson here

he should invest in a proper pair of shoes.

He might have a point, Les.

Oh, turn it up!

I'm not taking fashion advice from you now, am I?

You look like a bloody rolled up umbrella.

He does!

We're all done up there.

- Go grab a cold one. We'll catch up. - Yeah, right.

Shit.

Oh...

Come on, Eddie. I was only joking about the overcoat.

- Don't get heavy. - Trust me.

If was going to get heavy, you'd be the last to know.

Now, pop the bonnet and bang the solenoid

like the Neanderthal you are.

You're kidding.

You haven't told Price yet.

What's the rush?

Well, mate, you gotta fess up sooner or later

It's not like they're coming back anytime soon.

Oh, so you want to tell him, then?

"Sorry, boss, we lost the keys of your car

in the footing of your handball court right next to you-know-who."

Hey, hey. We didn't lose anything,

and I didn't know about you-know-who, remember?

Besides, you know, I'm... I'm sure he'd understand.

Well, I'm sure he wouldn't,

so for now what he doesn't know won't hurt him.

Or us, more importantly.

Now, when I say, give it a good whack.

- Ready? Go. - Righto.

- (THUMP!) - Bugger.

Try again.

Started first time this morning.

You sure you're whacking the solenoid?

I don't know! It's dark in there.

Go again. Really belt it this time.

Righto.

Now really gave it a good whack.

Ah, Eddie, mate, you...

you might want to come take a look at this.

What's the problem?

I'm not sure, mate, but I'm pretty sure it's not the solenoid.

Hey!

Ah, Jesus.

That would've put a dampener on things, hey?

You're not wrong.

That would've levelled half the Cross.

Bloody good work finding it, old son.

I didn't, boss.

You can thank Harry High-Tops for that.

Ah... Is that right, sticky beak?

What were you doing snooping under the bonnet in the first place for?

Oh, you know,

just checking the engine oil.

What, 4:00 in the morning?

Gotta do it when the engine's cool. I thought everyone knew that.

Eh...

Well, isn't it good to see someone's bloody doing their job?

I'm going as fast as I can.

No shortage of blokes who'd like to see you in the ground, remember?

Yeah, mate, still here.

You sure about that?

Yeah. Righto, yeah.

Thanks, Neville.

That was my guy down in Collins Street.

And...?

You won't believe who was spotted

fanging it north through Wagga last night.

Melbourne's favourite son.

Who, Daryl Somers?

Bert Newton.

'Wrongside' Rossiter, you bloody idiot.

Impossible.

Wrongside's doing a five-year stretch in Pentridge.

No, he was.

Someone paid off the beak and he got parole last week.

Yeah, and now he's here.

This is security video from earlier tonight.

Yeah, get a load of that.

In and out in under ten seconds flat.

That's a true master at work right there, folks.

Fuck me sideways, that's the last thing I need.

Come again?

What, you think I want Melbourne's number one hit man on my doorstep?

It's not you he's trying to hit, you dopey dick.

I just had someone trying to vaporise me hit me in my Corniche.

Both of you, relax. No-one's vaporising anyone.

Eddie can take you and the family up to Shell Bay for a few days

while Thumper sorts things out over here.

This is Wrongside Rossiter we're talking about here.

He's not going home until he's done what he got me to do.

I've got the opening of the handball court tomorrow, remember?

Oh, for God's sake, we'll postpone it.

Are you kidding? You know how much I've sunk into that thing.

Yeah, I just got the last invoice actually.

Rebound Ace? You don't think that was overdoing it a little bit?

I don't know. It's much kinder on me knees.

Price Galese does not do things by halves.

You know, besides, Georgie, in this racket,

if I run at the first sign of trouble

I'm going to have every bloody hoodlum in the country

lining up to take a shot at me.

So you'd rather Wrongside took another shot instead?

Wrongside's just doing a job.

He is. He's doing a job.

The real question is, who's paying him?

And how quickly you can make him regret it.

Yeah. I'm onto it.

Oh, come on, chin up, Georgie.

It's not my first time around the block, you know.

It's not his either.

Before Wrongside can get anywhere near me,

he's gotta get through me crack security team.

And that's how it came to pass that Les Norton,

having been a bouncer in an illegal casino for all of two weeks,

suddenly found himself promoted to bodyguard for Sydney's Mr Big.

A promotion he needed like Adelaide needed more serial killers.

Ah, thank you, baby Jesus.

- (PHONE RINGS) - Oh, you bastard.

You shut your pie hole.

What? Hello? Yeah.

Mmm... Who?

No. What? No.

Ah... He's not here.

OK.

OK, yeah, no problemo.

What a delicious breakfast.

Oh, I hope it didn't get too cold.

I actually didn't even know what it was at first.

It's been that long since I lived with someone who cooked.

My last flatmate's idea of baking was three cones before brekkie.

Your brother just called, by the way.

- What? - At least I think it was him.

I mean, I actually couldn't understand

most of what he was saying,

so I just figured that you must be related.

Did he leave a message? No.