Whoa! Ohh!
Eee! Sod off, pea-brain.
Hungary's where he comes from, our Mihaly.
I asked him once why it was he liked plants more than people.
And he said...
Why do you think, Louisa?
Plants don't betray.
And that's all he said.
Well, that's the bit I remember, anyway.
The Hungarian yellow, he grows from a single seed.
Carried in trouser-soiling...
And his grandfather's paid by this humble defector.
Bugger off!
What's that?
You scared of vampires?
It's garlic. Nino.
Come on, Nino. The Professore go crazy looking for you.
Who fart? You fart?
Ladies and gents,
it's Baringa's privilege to host in Education Week itself,
Mrs Albert Pepper
from the department whence all good things come.
Welcome.
Um... later there'll be a display of folkloric dancing
by our own Baringa Balkan Brigade,
which I'm sure you'll find folkloric and...
Now, for your edification, we present...
The "Charge of Light Brigade'.
By...
.. Alfred Lord... T-t...
Tennys-ys-on.
Half a league, half a league,
half a league onwards.
All in the valley of death rode the six hundred.
Forward, the Light Brigade...
Hey, little brother, you pong.
You fill your nappy or what?
Into the valley of death.
You enjoying this, Giuseppe?
I prefer to be stuffed in warm bed.
So would I.
Then I grow whiskers.
Some more than the others...
Valley of dead. Six hundred.
There is no...
Ah!
Mutton, paprikas,
tripe, paprikas,
golden orange potato, paprikas.
Ah.
Five out of twenty?
A man of your qualifications
must see these language skills are less than adequate.
That Italian boy, the one with the personal freshness problem,
had barely any standard of comprehension at all.
No. He's stupid.
That's a rather prejudiced view, isn't it?
I think you'll find if you took more interest
you could get some real results.
Help them to invent little stories.
Scenarios.
Engage their minds.
Yes, Ken. You know, little stories. Engage the mind, hmm?
Yeah, but he doesn't have a mind.
I mean, isn't there... isn't there anything at all in all of this
that impresses you?
That's rather good, I suppose.
You sh...
Oh! What has he rolled in?
You wouldn't mind, on this one occasion.
Oww!
I needed that.
Which one of you shit-munching nun-buggerers stole my paprika?
Hoo-oo, Mrs Pepper,
I taught him as well.
Behold, a finger-painted egg.
My God, the artistry, the vision, the universality of human experience.
"Try engaging the mind, Mr Pearson,
"you'll find it will vastly increase your job satisfaction. "
Madam, I haven't been this satisfied
since I last opened my veins in the bath.
Well, she liked me Mihaly's woodcut.
What, Mr Compost and Cowdung did this?
Nino dragged it out from under his bed.
Nino - blight of my sodding life.
Maybe he'll try a bit harder.
Just a little.
Give him special classes or something.
Who am I - Pavlov?
Here, Nini-weeny-winky, just a little woof on cue for Uncle Kenny.
One stroke for "yes', two for "no'.
You know something, Dad, you can be a real prick sometimes.
Oh, my beauty, show yourself to me.
One fine day, Hungary, when you build your waterworks...
Hoo-oo! Mihaly, old man, can I have a word?
Louise tells me that you're the...
Arggh!
Good. It works.
Did you steal my paprikas?
No, I didn't steal your sodding paprikas,
you horticultural primate.
Where did you find this?
Er...
Nino took it out, apparently.
Someone you knew?.
It's a long boat ride, Professor.
Best to keep hands occupied so mind don't wonder.
Next time I hide something, I stick it up my arse.
Nosey noses won't sniff there, ah?
It's, ah...
It's rather good, actually.
Did you ever... do anything with it?
With any others?
Do? What would I do?
Soak in oil and roast with stuffing.
You like it, Professor, it's yours.
Yeah, and the monkey typed "Hamlet'.
Christ!
Now, we have a fortnight's grace
before the wicked witch of the department
puts a big black mark on our score card,
so take a seat.
No, sit down. Oh.
Nini-weeny,
we're going to locate a single functional cell of your mind
and engage it.
Now, we'll start... we'll start with this.
What's in the picture, hmm?
Er, it's a boy.
Yes?
Er, it's a boy with pepperoni.
Boy is sad. He's scared, because he is piangi.
Um... cry?
Sì, sì, he is cry.
He's crylNG. He's doing it now, isn't he?
So we might say either he cries or he is crying.
Crying. Right.
Now, what's he doing with the pepperoni - the paprika?
His gift for to say sorry.
Is that what it is?
I thought he was catching it, you know, like in cricket. How's that?
No. No, Professore, boy is very shame.
He's ashamed. Ashamed.
He is take pepperoni and for to say, "Forgive, please. "
He is swear to beat, um...
How to say...? Pestare.
What... to make a paste?
Mmm. A powder?
To grind?
His heart? Ah, sì. Very good.
To grind his heart and give.
It's funny how we felt safe in that garden of Mihaly.
Gardens are never safe.
Gardens are the place of betrayals.
Hey, you!
Dirty swine! I'll tear your balls out with my bare hands!
Arggh!
Ohh!
Wog! Balk! Greaseball! Batted Slav!
Hey, give those back.
No. Come on, you little shit.
Give those back. Make me.
Arggh!
Get his wallet! Yeah.
Get off me! Get off me, you cheeky little pricks!
Let's get out of here.
It's a bit shaggy round the edges, you know, like the author.
It's a bit indulgent in spots.
But where did you get all that stuff
about the boy not talking and the paprika and the messages?
That's commonly known in literary circles
as metaphor.
I made it up, of course.
It was a flight of the imagination. The Holy Ghost popped in for a visit.
Dad, you could've been a writer. I never knew.
You could've even been published.
You could've been as good as Enid Blyton.
Dear heart, Noddy and Big Ears were born in a greater mind than this.
It's a teaching aid, that's all.
Now, the real challenge will be getting our resident halfwits
to extract all the little gems of meaning
from all the little wordy-poos.
Did you really like it?
God, yeah.
As much as the "Ring O' Bells Mystery'.
It's brilliant. Mmm!
Hello, gypsy.
Brung your dogsticks back.
This your waterworks? Uh-huh.
You're stupid.
Use the water from the dunnies.
Not allowed.
It won't work. Water won't go up hills.
Wrong, gypsy.
Water can do anything.
In the snow, the rivers run backwards.
They blow tunnels in the mountains.
They flood the valleys.
Echo chambers for water to froth, boil,
and by magic, make light.
Give them back!
Ah-ha! Oh!
This one yours?
Thank you.
Oh! No bite!
Bastard! Let me go!
Bark like a dog!
Oh!
Oh.
Leave us alone!
Sixpence.
Payment with interest.
Now piss off. Arggh!
Hungary, I... I think you hurt him.
Bullshit.
He's a gypsy.
Arggh!
What?
Hey, don't just stand there. Hold him.
W... you know, I- I have broad mind, but...
Look, Italy. The kid's got a boil.
Yeah, is very funny. I'll get you, you wog!
Tear out your throat!
The more you struggle, the more it's gonna hurt.
Think I'm stupid?
You're gonna beat the crap out of me.
Get blood poisoning and die.
I had a boy who grew more boils than you've told lies.
I know about boils.
A deal, huh?
I won't hurt you unless I have to, and you take it like a man.
Ooh.
Does he still get 'em?
Don't know.
Gonna have a... Ooh!
.. bucketful of pus.
Yeah?
How many buckets? 20.
30.
Arggh!
50!
Don't shit me, dogstick.
Ow!
Once upon a time, there is a boy.
And the boy have the world on his tongue.
He cannot to speak.
"To' is redundant.
Cannot speak.
Cannot speak of com-et,
of art.
Cannot speak of... of love.
And so he send-ing...
Sends.
Sends mess... age... message
in tiny sprinkles of powder.
Right. Good. Now, um, try it again.
It's not gonna work, Slav-e-loid, I told ya.
Water won't go uphill.
Piss off, kid.
Oh, no. I... I can't do it. Sorry.
The w... words is spaghetti.
You want to show them, don't you?
You want to show Giuseppe.
"But one day... "
One day,
the boy, he have no more left of Hungarian girl.
And so he took...
And so he cries.
Yes!
He cries because he can no more speak of his love.
Yes.
"But the boy dries his tears.
"He knows what he must do.
"He must to... He must to reach inside.
"And so he reach inside his chest
"and pulls out through the casket of his ribs
"his last golden paprika.
"He hold out in his hand
"and crush and crush and he grind his last paprika
"into powder,
"into golden dust. "
"But it fall between his fingers
"onto the scalding earth
"and there is trampled by all the feet of the frightened men. "
How's that, Mrs Albert sodding Pepper?
Bravo, bravo.
Yeah!
Comes out, and down!
Bugger it.
Shitting damn!
The water in channels pours into drums.
And pump moves water.
Hey, wog, waterworks.
Ah! What the...?
Yes, yes, yes, I'm impressed. Put it away.
Ma says I'm a camel.
Well, you do it one more time, I roll you up and smoke you like one.
And now, kid...
.. goodbye.
Listen, kid. Why do you keep hanging around here? What do you want?
You want to see something?
It's my dad's left thumb.
Keeps me safe, lights my way.
That's sick, kid. It's true.
Come with me.
After he drowned, we buried him for nine days. Then I dug him up.
Dad has his old man's thumb.
And he had his.
He used to say we'd go north.
All the way to the top to where the sugar grows in tubes.
And the way would be lit by his old man's thumb.
He said we'd find a place that was just ours.
No-one else's.
And he reckoned the frogs would fall from the sky.
Only he was full of shit.
'Cause he turned around and croaked, silly prick.
There's an old word in my country.
"The landless ones'.
People less than nothing.
That's us, dogstick.
You and me.
Oh, God.
He's very hot, signora. Please, you do something?
You say he's been playing with some kids by the river?
Sí, signora. I try to stop him, but...
Look, I'm no expert, Colonel, but I...
.. I think it could be a form of meningitis.
Meningitis?
We'd better get him up to the infirmary.
Leave us alone, you stupid dickheads!
We didn't start this bloody plague!
Get in the truck! Piss off! Leave us alone!
Bugger! Stop that, I said!
You dick!
He bit me.
OK, let's go.
So you ran them out, like a pogrom.
I moved them on. They're infectious.
I've got the welfare of the camp to look after.
Even here. This can happen even here!
What about my pump? Your what?
I've asked you to make inquiries.
I filled in duplicate of duplicate of requisition form.
I don't give a tinker's cuss about your pump.
For pity's sake, what do you need a pump for? We've got...
Because I want it. Because I beg, borrow and scavenge.
Because I never asked you for anything.
Because you rich, arrogant scum
in this lazy, arrogant fucking country
don't know what it is to have 10 square feet of earth!
Because you, you never had it stolen from under your feet!
Please, Colonel, I'm begging you.
I've got an epidemic on my hands because YOU opened the plurry door
and invited it in!
And I take this curse on you!
Sit and bark like a dog!
A curse on you!
A pox on your head and the heads of your children
and the heads of your children's children!
You right, Colonel?
Oh!
How could she do this to me? Huh!
Listen, listen.
Alessandro, he been such a help with poor Papa.
See, last week, he take me to cinema in...
Alessandro Venuti!
I can't believe it. The woman...
She got such a bad taste.
Well, what's good for the goose...
Why is you Australians always talk about birds?
I mean, what you mean is adultery, no?
So, uh... what's gonna happen? I mean, with your kids.
I look like family man to you?
There's no kids.
Uh, you think is only women carry the calendar, uh? No.
No, sometimes we get headache,
there's always some special feast day for some saint sometime.
Anyway, Angelina, she think I... How do you say in Australia?
I shoot blank.
Do you?
Anyway, what little bambino want... want papa like me?
Uh? I send him out to work with the nappy on.
And me, I lie back, I drink chianti, sing "Rigoletto'...
Ahhh.
Bev, what? Oh!
Has my... my tongue gone black or...?
Oh, oh.
Oh.
You just carried me across the threshold.
Uh... well, don't worry. I not make a habit of it.
Oh!
Uh, signora, look, um...
I... I can't stay.
I... I... I have to go.
Just follow me this way.
Oooh!
Why did blessed B have to fall over at a time like this?! Jolly unsoldierly.
Yes?
The most remarkable thing's just happened.
The local rag wants to print my story,
my little piece of flibbertigibbetry.
And now I'm to be published.
How on earth...? I sent it. With the picture.
Kenneth Eden Blyton Pearson.
No, no, no, not too close. You might have this ghastly plague.
I can't disappoint my public now.
Scusi, Professore. Do you mind?
There's three littlies in the infirmary.
Do you think you could manage?
Literary titan triumphs in antipodean scourge!
Put that in your pipe and engage it, Mrs Pepper.
I say, Adrianna, I'm to be published!
Dante, old son. I'm to be published.
Maeve, my wee laughing lassie.
You, uh... got some li-li-literary light?
My autograph, Mrs Pepper?
Delighted if you oblige me by spontaneously combusting!
Hey! Where's your pump, dogstick?!
You know, you got me in real big trouble kid.
I know something you don't know.
Yeah? Let me guess.
You've grown a new boil, huh?
I know where there's a pump.
We'll have to steal it, but.
Jesus, gypsies.
I'm not nicking nothing.
I'm an alien. I get caught nicking things and I'm on the next boat.
So, I'll nick it. The bloke who owns it doesn't need it.
He's rich.
He's not... What's that word? Nin...
People who have less than nothing.
Hey.
Come here.
You sick?
No.
Dad's looking after me.
Hoot like an owl, OK?
I'll have you!
Come here!
You wait till I get my hands on you! Come here! Come here!
You, mangy mongrel, come here!
Mick!
Hey, Mick! Pump them pedals!
Come here! Come here!
Aargh! Oh!
Come here, you!
Hey, hey, you got trouble, mister? You know this kid?!
He's a gypsy. Do you know him?
Go on, Mick. Tell him who I am.
Never seen him in my life.
You won't be coming back! Mister!
You got quarantine in that log camp?
Highly contagious. Urgent medical supply.
You're scum! You're a liar!
Come on, you little bastard. Come on.
I'll get you! Come on!
I'll get you! You bastard!
His hands have touched everything in this place.
If I play let's pretend...
.. I could feel him touching me...
Hmm...
.. the way they touch Bev.
Like on a raised stamp.
Hmm? Or hothouse orchids.
Or an all-day sucker.
All bright and swirly.
Just before he licks it.
Even think about licking me
and you'll be wearing your nuts as earrings!
Uh...
You know, Louisa, Giuseppe's not only... not only shark in the sea.
Well, he's the only one in mine.
Fancing meeting you here.
Ah. It's just a hobby.
Joe.
Mum, Mum... remember that time me and Huey ate two whole watermelons
and I threw up all over my bride doll?
You got into bed with me. Shhh.
Calma.
Huey made me eat them, Mum.
He... he ate all the fruit and made me eat the pips.
Hey, you said, "No good looking for miracles, Bevvy. "
He's a man after all.
Ohhh.
Oh! Mmm.
Mmm. Nice and warm. Mmm.
I feel sick, Mummy.
In the tummy... Oh!
Oh, my God.
Not again.
Oh!
Mum!
Dad.
So what I thought I might...
How is it possible one person vomits so much?
Oh, Giuseppe, you big sook.
I'm just saying I thought I might put a collection together
of essays and short stories.
Louisa.
I must be crazy. At last I get the woman into bed and... BLEURGH!
You know, maybe it's true what they say.
Maybe the man want woman more when she don't...
You know... What do you think? You think it's true?
One thing I tell you for sure - the vomit is not sexy.
There are sorts of betrayals.
I say... Hungary!
Bit of good news, old thing.
Ohhh.
Ohh.
Mmm.
Oh, sir, I'm sorry.
I thought you were someone else.
Your friend -
Braces -
he's over at the infirmary taking Enos for his weak stomach.
Oh, God.
Uh, shit.
Oh, my beauty.
Don't tease me no more.
Apa!
Hey, Apa.
Matyas.
Aargh!
Here's your frigging pump.
Come on. Come on. They're wet.
Piss off!
Come on.
Ohhh.
Ohhh!
Jesus!
Ow! Ow!
What are you staring at, battered Slav?!
I left you.
I got the pump.
I betrayed you.
Look out. Spewing ready or not.
Hey.
Apa.
How a man loves a child -
with the bloody cords and tissues of his body,
like a woman?
Or with the back of his hand?
Matyas,
for you, I would have made frogs fall from the sky.
He's calling me! I can hear him!
Who? Who is calling you?
Dad!
Oh.
Why, thank you, Mr Dante.
That's right chivalrous of you.
Don't mention, dumpling.
Marvellous day, Ken.
Into the valley of death the five hundred rode,
and not a stiff in sight.
As we said on Kokoda, that which doesn't kill us...
Makes us vomit.
But where's the story? Well, they haven't printed it.
Seemed to think that I'm responsible for this.
I ask you, is that the face of a man
who carried the seed of the Hungarian Yellow
halfway across the world?
Well, they must've made a mistake. They'll print it next week.
I'm afraid in my enthusiasm, I may...
It's only a possibility, mind.
They said it was a work of genius, and I just assumed...
Well, you would, wouldn't you?
Well, phooey to them. Double phooey! Triple phooey!
Don't spend all your phooeys all at once, dear heart. It gets worse.
I sent a rather uppity missive to our friend Mrs Pepper
advising her that I'd recently become a man of letters,
Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God.
She's coming back next week.
Do you think it's too late to catch the play?
You didn't have to be Tolstoy, Dad. You only had to teach Nino to talk.
Yeah, teach our performing monkey to sing for his bananas.
This is all there is, light of my loins.
All of us here, at the end of the world,
tapping away in our little, wire cages,
dreaming of typing "Hamlet'.
Hmm.
I put here.
This is a coincidence.
When I was nine, my kid brother and I ate two whole melons.
Well... he ate the melon bit. I ate the pips.
And you vomit on your bridey doll.
My mother put on a nightie and got into bed with me.
She stayed three days till I stopped throwing up.
Turned out I had glandular fever.
A real shindig, huh?
Lying there hour after hour while a kid chucks all over you.
I try that. I really try.
It's just I'm not so good with body function -
the vomit, blood.
Make me sick.
No kidding.
What do you want from me?
You want me to be Superman? What?
No, I don't want you to be Superman, you great Latin berk!
I just want you once to... .. swallow the pips.
Come on. Come on.
Come on.
Send her down, you!
Sí, sí.
I betrayed you.
It's OK, wog. I'd have done the same thing.
Right. Uh, we'll start at the beginning.
"Dear... "
Uh, Matyas. My son.
And he probably knows who he is.
Um, it...
You... you probably quite big boy now.
Do you still grow boils in strange... places?
No.
Shit.
Bloody... bugger.
Want that in caps?
It's been a long time, Professor.
"Dear Matyas... "
We'll get it down, hmm? Then you can translate.
Uh-huh.
"I'm going to tell you a story.
"Once upon a time, there was a man.
"This man had the weight of all the world on his tongue.
And he could not speak of his thoughts to others.
And so he sent messages
in tiny sprinkles of powder.
Powdered Hungarian gold -
paprika.
The years wore on,
and with each year, his tongue grew heavier.
Still he could not speak.
And so he reached inside and withdrew,
through the casket of his ribs,
his last golden paprika.
And he held it out in his hand.
And he crushed and crushed
and ground his last paprika
into golden dust.
And it fell through his fingers onto the scalding earth,
and there it was trampled by the feet
of all the frightened men.
Eh, Papa!