The Mule Page #4

---

Where the f*** are you, Ray?

Mr Jenkins, my name

is Detective Les Paris.

This is Detective Tom Croft.

We're with the Australian

Federal Police.

The importation of narcotics

is a federal of fence.

Therefore Detective Croft will need

to perform a digital examination,

or if you prefer, we could

X-ray your stomach instead.

Be aware that a refusal may

appear as an admission of guilt.

Will you avail yourself

to either procedure?

No.

Alright, then.

You leave us with no option but

to accompany you to a hospital

for observation by a

registered medical officer.

We don't need your permission for that.

We're unable to confirm what's in there.

If it is narcotics,

he's a human time bomb.

Surely you can whack something

up there, take a look-see.

Not without his permission.

He'll expel whatever it is soon enough.

- All you can do is wait.

- F*** that.

I'm not sitting in there all night

waiting for this c*nt to take a dump.

There's this hotel I

use in Airport West.

Airport West?

No doubt it's the bloody Hilton.

I'm obliged to inform you

that you're being detained under

suspicion and without charge.

You don't have to say anything

and are entitled to the presence

of a legal representative.

Now, whilst in detention without charge,

you are legally entitled to

a similar standard of living

that you're accustomed to at home.

I.e., if you usually have a glass

of wine with dinner at home,

you're entitled to a glass

of wine with dinner here.

You, drink a bit of

f***ing Riesling, do you?

The law permits us to

detain you for seven days,

or until you empty your bowels twice.

Until then, you'll remain in this

room under constant supervision.

The sooner you go to the toilet,

the sooner we all go home.

F***!

Ray?

No, it's me.

Oh, mate.

I was just on my way over.

Missed you at the airport.

Really?

Sent a car. It was under your name.

- I didn't see it.

- No worries.

I'll send the car over now.

No. Don't.

I no know his address!

I'm on my way out the door, mate.

Just hold on a second, will you, mate?

Here's the address.

John. He's your stepfather

and coach, yeah?

And was it his idea to go to Thailand?

Don't know.

Ray, whatever's in your stomach,

if it's narcotics,

you could be in a lot of trouble.

Especially if you don't get it out.

I told you at the airport,

I'm constipated.

Then why won't you take a laxative?

I'm... allergic.

Ray, I'm not interested in

putting away good blokes

who have made one bad decision.

I want the real bastards.

Everybody works for somebody.

Yes!

Sh*t!

Got you, you f*ggot sh*t!

I kill you!

You're a dead man!

When you want to have a tinkle,

you let Constable Rowland know.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes