Operation Buffalo

Tell me you found Carmen.

We found someone else.

Eva Lloyd George. My uncle is Gwilym Lloyd George.

The Home Secretary?

I thought you released three of those last night, Dr Ratchett.

And another six this morning. Need to establish a trail.

I have been told that there are no Aborigines in this region.

I've never really gone out there to see for myself.

Why don't you, sir?

I never want to hear that name again. Do you understand?

I'm from the Australian Security and Intelligence Organisation.

Leo? Leo!

You have to clean up and get out of here.

There's no time to mourn.

Before dawn on the 16th of July 1945

at Alamogordo, New Mexico,

an event took place which was to change the world

for all time to come.

The atomic age was born.

Would you like to go to space one day?

I guess so. What about space monsters?

What space monsters?

There could be space monsters.

There aren't any space monsters. No such thing.

How do you know? There's probably another life out there.

It's unlikely they look like us,

so I think that space monsters aren't just a possibility

but a probability.

There is no other life out there. Is there, Mum?

No space monsters!

Everyone take a breath. OK? Come on.

The horse show starts in 10 minutes. Giddy-up.

(ON RADIO) Mr Speaker, having just returned

from a fact-finding journey to Maralinga,

where we found a military facility

run to the highest standards of discipline and efficiency,

we can inform the House the work being done there

will define this country for generations.

It is fundamentally un-Australian

for this Opposition to attempt to undermine our future.

This Opposition... (BANGS GAVEL) Order!

..which seeks to do no more

than to pollute the minds of our citizenry

with their hideous red propaganda!

Order!

Mr Speaker, Labor does not seek to pollute anything.

No, no, no, no!

What Labor seeks is straight answers from this government

to inform the Australian people

about the goings on at Maralinga!

We want to know!

This government volunteered

to have nuclear bombs dropped on our country!

It's a bloody disgrace!

Absolutely nothing and no-one will be harmed,

according to the Prime Minister!

The girls are coming to pick me up in a cab at half past.

Len's coming, right?

Yeah, he should be here any minute. Here.

Take this. What's that?

It's your marching orders.

Tell no-one, not even the girls, until you're there and safe.

It's Lenny's uncle's and it's remote, so you'll be safe.

Uh, Nick, this is Leo. G'day, mate.

Hey.

Oh, we're in luck, man. No blood's seeped through.

We'll just wrap him in the rug,

tie it off and chuck him in the truck.

Did you want anything extra? What do you mean, 'extra'?

No fingers means no fingerprints, no teeth, no dental records,

burn his clothes, that sort of thing.

I thought you said he'd never be found.

A lot of blokes in your situation

feel as though they might sleep a little better at night

if the body could never be ID'd.

How much extra? £5.

Yeah.

Did he drive here? Yeah.

Well, we'll need to deal with that. That's another five.

There's a sedan out front with Z plates.

Z plates? Is he a cop?

Is that a problem?

Not especially.

Terry. Can I have a quick word?

It'll have to be very quick. I'm already late for a meeting.

You gave us some pretty good stick today about Maralinga.

You look confident.

We're a hungry Opposition. What do you expect?

I expect you to do

what's in the best interests of the nation.

Is there something you know

that I, as the responsible minister,

ought to know about Maralinga?

You've answered your own question, Dick.

You ought to know.

(ON P.A) Attention.

The next train will not be stopping at Canberra station.

For passengers' safety, please stand well behind the line.

(ON P.A.) Perfect conditions yet again in Maralinga

for the annual Aussies versus Poms game.

So, go, boys!

Pitch is turning a bit. (CHUCKLES)

Mm. I see. Yeah.

Uh, a couple of gaps out there on the on side.

This Pommy bastard's got a bit of pace about him, so be warned.

Gotcha. I'll sort it.

How's the patient?

You mean the Russian doll you nearly pissed yourself over?

She's fine. Stop it.

Cor!

Duty calls. Have fun.

Yeah! It's cricket!

Ah.

Middle and leg, please, sir!

A bit towards leg.

There we go.

Oh!

Fuckin' rat!

Murph. Murph...

What's the bloody point?

Get him!

Come!

Hang on. Ta-da!

How are you, darling Prof?

Chicken!

You're my new junior? It would appear so.

But you're...

Since when have you been a Lloyd George?

Unless you've married a Lloyd George, of course.

No, I've always been a Lloyd George, Prof.

Yeah, but you were Eva Lavroski.

I'm afraid not.

I used my mother's maiden name at Cambridge.

Still do sometimes. Never liked having preferred treatment.

You're an actual Lloyd George?

Oh, Christ, Prof! Does it matter?

If anything, it's a bloody curse.

It's all anybody ever wants to talk about.

Prime minister or not,

I was never particularly fond of the old bugger.

Quite frankly, I wish I could have stayed a Lavroski.

Shall we go for a walk?

Nurse! Nurse, give us a hand, would you?

Ow. Ow, ow!

Oh. Good Lord!

Nurse. Professor.

Cor! You know I love you, right?

Always have and I always will.

Come, my little rays of sunshine!

Men!

I love you. Alice! Marilyn!

Sometimes, during a drought...

..the meteorologists must tell the farmers

it's about to rain.

Because without hope, they have nothing.

So, sometimes, when the wind is blowing east...

They must be told it's a southerly.

I have one job, chicken - to allay fear.

To put the gods of water and fire...

..at peace.

Are you some sort of... desert war-lord shaman now?

I write my public reports in such a way

that the Australian people can feel comfy and secure

about the tests at Maralinga,

so all the windy politicians in London and Canberra

can be released from liability

because the science is officially in from yours truly

confirming the atomic mushroom clouds don't travel.

"Sleep tight, Australia, for safe progress is at hand."

Quite.

You must also have written real reports.

Of course.

Who gets those?

It's a political matter way above your pay grade.

Only two people get the truth.

Not many in London or Canberra want it.

It seems a possibility your truth is getting out there

beyond pay grade borders.

What do you mean?

What borders? Porous borders.

Parties opposed to Her Majesty's realm

seem to have received a raft of secrets

they were obviously not intended to discover.

It seems your secret truths

about the wandering atomic clouds have...

..been leaked -

to politicians described by some as 'unsympathetic'.

Unsympathetic?

To whom?

Prof...

..have you been indiscreet?

Excuse me, Professor Ratchett.

Uh, Dr Lloyd George,

the general requests the pleasure of your company.

# As I walked along the Bois de Boulogne

# With an independent air

# You could hear the girls declare

# "He must be a millionaire"

# You could hear them sigh and wish to die

# You could see them wink with the other eye