Sirens

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The curator agreed to remove

the paintings from the exhibition

and sent a letter to the artist

inviting him to submit alternatives.

Unfortunately,

the offer was refused point-blank.

- He's threatened to go to the press.

- Mr Norman Lindsay, I take it?

- You've heard of him.

- Well, I like to keep abreast.

The last thing we want is a scandal.

Anyway, here they are.

Yes.

A case could be made for the

first three. They're merely vulgar.

But this one

is certainly blasphemous.

- And you want me to talk him round?

- It's on the way to your new parish.

I think an outsider has more of

a chance of getting through to him

than any of us locals.

I gather you were something

of a progressive at Oxford.

Don't believe everything you hear

but yes, element of truth in that.

He's happy to put you

and your wife up for the night.

I think he rather relishes

the idea of a good argument.

Well, if his reputation

is anything to go by,

he'd love to shock the socks off

any churchman that goes near him.

May I introduce you to my wife?

I don't think you've met.

Estella, the Bishop of Sydney.

My wife, Estella.

- Welcome to Australia.

- Thank you.

- Morning.

- Tickets, please.

- Do you know if a taxi's waiting?

- Yeah. There's not.

I, um, understand one was booked

to go to Mr Lindsay's place.

Doing a bit of modelling, are yous?

No, I certainly am not.

Taxi's been a bit late lately.

You'd be better off down at the pub.

May we leave our baggage here?

I'm about to knock off.

It'll be pilfered.

Would you mind giving us

a hand with it, then?

- Oh, I'm awfully sorry.

- I'll forgive you.

- Millions wouldn't.

- Oh, dear.

Try the pub.

It's just down the hill.

- Morning.

- Get f***ed. Get f***ed.

Ah, f***.

Aw, f***.

Watch the language, everyone.

Gents only in the bar.

Ladies' lounge is through the door.

Yes, we don't want a drink.

We just want a taxi, if there is one.

- Reg is at a funeral.

- I see.

- You could be in for a long wait.

- Oh, yes?

It's his funeral.

Well... Thanks.

Hey! I got my eye on you!

- Where yous goin'?

- Out to Mr Lindsay's place.

We're goin' out that way.

We can give you a lift.

- Thank you. Thank you very much.

- After we finish our beers.

Anthony?

They can't wait forever.

Fine. Come on, then.

Thank you.

Thanks for the lift.

I don't mean to be rude but...

you got a bit of food

on the side of your mouth.

Thanks.

See ya later.

Sorry about that, Piglet.

You all right?

They swear an awful lot.

They tend to, types like that.

- They didn't really say anything.

- Good.

- Now, where is everyone?

- Maybe Mr Lindsay changed his mind.

Pooh, look, there's something here.

Dear visitors, sorry we missed you.

Gone out for a picnic.

Make yourselves at home.

Well, I suppose

we'd better not go in.

Let's sit over by the pond.

- Mrs Campion?

- Hello.

What? Ah! Sorry.

I was fast asleep there.

You must be Mr Lindsay.

Lindsay Campion, my wife Norman.

- Estella.

- Just out from England?

That's it. We arrived

just a couple of weeks ago.

So they weren't game to send a local?

Well, you...

you're exactly on our way.

Oh, well. I'm glad

you got here in one piece.

Excuse me, I gotta get back to work.

Giddy and Sheela'll show you a room.

You'd probably like to freshen up.

- We'd love to, thank you.

- Thank you very much.

- You take that for me...

- This way, ladies and gents.

Maggie!

Thank you. Lovely.

You'll have trouble sleeping.

She sleeps next door

and she snores terribly.

- I do not.

- She sounds like two possums mating.

That's so horrible and it's not true.

Whereabouts is the, uh...

Take him out to the thunder box.

Just a tick.

I've never snored in my life.

I think snoring

can be quite charming, actually.

This way.

Why do they call it a thunder box?

Cos it's out in the wind and rain?

I suppose. But you always need

to keep your shoes on.

- Are there stinging nettles?

- Yes, and scorpions and centipedes.

Hell.

- Can you swim?

- Not very well.

I'll wake you up. There's

a swimming hole we go to every day.

- I'm Sheela.

- Estella.

Does he always take the Bible

with him to the dunny?

It wasn't the Bible. He just doesn't

like wasting time, that's all.

Well, from the size of it,

he could be there all night.

I should've warned him

about the redbacks.

- What are they?

- Small spiders with big teeth.

- They live under toilet seats.

- How do you know if they're there?

By the screams.

Ah, there you are.

Mr Lindsay's wonderful, isn't he?

He said we're gonna do

The Sirens next.

- Do you know about them?

- Certainly.

They lived on the island of Atlantis

and sang songs from the cliffs

and sailors from passing ships were

driven mad by these gorgeous voices.

And the ships would be dashed

against the rocks

and the sailors dragged down

to a blissful death

with the voices of the sirens

ringing in their ears.

I think myths

are a bit stupid, really.

I'll be wearing this.

You know, you could pose, too,

if you like.

He always needs more models.

Go on, try it. Please.

There's some male ones too.

I don't think that's quite for us.

Well, you could always wear a dagger,

strategically placed.

Or a sword. Whichever you need.

And dinner's ready.

Oh, that's right.

I was sent to fetch you.

I don't...like people thinking

I'm like the other models.

I'm working here as a maid.

Mr Lindsay asked me to pose

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