Last Cab to Darwin

No, oh, yeah, I will. I'm just finishin' me beer.

Hey? Just let me finish me beer.

No, get out. I told you. I fuckin' told you. Hey!

Yeah, yeah, alright. You've had enough.

You've had e-bloody-nough. Now, come on. Get out.

Oh, come on, Frank. Brownie, I promise.

No, get out! I promise I'll be good.

Beat it! Out now! You've had enough.

You've had enough. Get out! Dougie!

Fuckin' hell! Frank, let him go.

Tell him who spilled it! I didn't even spill it!

Simmo, you weak prick!

Dougie! Dougie!

Hands off the merchandise!

Hey, hey! Dougie, you're barred!

Aw, fuck, Brownie!

Yeah, alright. Just go home.

Aw, Brownie! Dougie!

I don't want to see your ugly mug around here again.

Come on, come on. He'll get over it.

He's got the long haul to Adelaide tomorrow.

He's just shitty.

Lucky I don't leave a piss ring on your carpet!

Come on. Come on, shut up.

Wouldn't even know

there was a piss ring on your carpet!

Hey, Rexie. Hey, where's Rexie going?

Rexie! See you, boys!

Come on.

Let's go to the Workers' Club.

Nah, he's barred from there as well.

('SO INTO YOU' BY ATLANTA RHYTHM SECTION PLAYS)

Oh-ho!

Rex!

Rex!

Rex!

Morning, Pol. You!

You've been dumping your rubbish in my bin!

I don't want your rubbish, mate!

You keep it in your own bin,

and if you don't have no room in your own bin,

you'll keep it in your fucking house!

I'm not the bloody tip!

You finished?

And you keep that mangy bloody dog of yours

on your side of the street.

Yesterday, I come out

and that big bloody Alsatian from next door

was chock-a-block up him!

Would have been a sight.

Looked like it was trying to shake a possum off a pole!

Oh. Oh. (COUGHS)

How you feeling?

Can't keep my food down.

I reckon it's that fisherman's basket

they serve you up at the All Nations.

My Uncle Cyril used to say

never, ever order seafood in this town.

We're 500 miles from the ocean.

Ah, I'm getting old, Pol.

Ah.

We all getting old, Rex.

These days, I can't remember ever being young.

My Uncle Cyril used to say if you were born in this town,

you were born old.

Your Uncle Cyril used to say a lot.

Couldn't shut the bastard up.

Oh, dear.

You didn't come around last night.

Oh, I left it a bit late.

Might tonight, hey?

43 today, they reckoned. Hotter yesterday.

Yeah.

Morning, Rex.

The cousin and his mob still coming down

for the school holidays?

Nup. Too bloody many of them.

Useless mob of no-good bludgers.

Bloody mad, the whole lot of them.

Swimming in a river with no water,

driving round in a car with no fuel.

"When can we come and see you, Aunty Polly?"

"When hell freezes over, Noel, that's when!"

OK, dog.

Shit, shower and shove off.

Come on.

('GIRLS ON THE AVENUE' BY RICHARD CLAPTON PLAYS)

Morning, Mrs Peter. Good morning, Rex.

Have a good one, Mrs Peter. Thank you.

Rexie. What do you know?

Not enough, Dougie. Not enough.

Correct. You may pass.

Hey, Rexie.

Sexy Rexie.

See you at the pub, hey?

Good man.

How you going, Rexie?

Can't complain.

Polly alright?

Well, she's good, I suppose, darl.

You'd have to ask her.

Rex Macrae.

Yeah.

Apart from the lymphatic system,

these dark areas show it's moved through into the liver

and several other organs.

Multiple cannonball lesions here on the lungs.

We didn't get it all, Rex. I'm sorry.

How long?

Well... it's extremely well advanced.

Three months.

At best.

Mmm.

There you go, then.

If we'd got it earlier...

If.

"If wishes were horses, beggars would ride."

Dad used to say that.

So, Rex, we're gonna have to look at hospital as an option.

No.

We have a brand-new palliative care ward...

No fuckin' hospitals.

Eventually... you won't have a choice.

I'm a cab driver, Doc.

That's what I am.

So I'm gonna drive my cab until I can't drive it anymore.

That's it.

Finished.

You can help me out, can't you?

Put me down when the time comes?

I give you my word there will be no pain.

No fuckin' hospitals!

OK.

OK.

And you're right.

Take some time. It's...

It's a lot to think about.

Let's talk again in three days, OK?

Rexie!

How is ya, fella?

Dougie. Col.

Little birdie told me it was your shout, Rex.

Fuck that little birdie.

Evening, Rex. Still single?

Still single, Frank.

Brothers, my brothers!

There was much rejoicing in the land,

for there was no spillage.

Hey?

Hey? (LAUGHS)

Not a drop. Hey, hey, hey!

Dougie, where's my beer?

It's your shout, you little weasel.

No, Rex has got them, you stupid bastard.

Coming up. Oh.

How is ya, Rexie? Can't complain, Simmo.

Oh, God, you're a legend!

Ta. Thanks, Rex.

Here's to us and fuck the rest.

Yeah. Cheers.

Frank?

What's news, Col?

Oh, not much.

Still this euthanasia thing up in the Territory,

although now it's official.

So if you know for sure you're gonna cark it

and you reckon you've had enough,

you can just ask them to put you out of your misery.

Jesus.

Pass that law in Broken Hill, there'd be no bastards left!

Hey, Simmo. Mm?