Wake in Fright Page #2

Biggest two-up game

in Australia, Jack.

Right on, fellas.

I want 100 in the middle.

The spinner's

the bloke with the kip.

Kip?

Yeah, the bit of wood

they put the pennies on.

He's just dropped

$100 in the center.

That's got to be covered

before they can spin 'em.

Now it's been covered, they can

all get in for a side bet.

Heads, heads, heads...

Tails. Tails.

- Who wants to go on the heads?

- Put 50 on heads.

You know, the little fella with the

kip's a fella named Charlie Jones.

Comes in here every Friday

night with his pay packet.

Bets are closing.

Clear a space.

Quiet! Hey!

Settle down, settle down.

What do you think it is?

Fair go, chaps.

Heads!

Do you get the idea now, Jack?

Well, you just bet on whether the

pennies come down heads or tails.

Yeah, that's right.

You think this

crowd will be at each

other's throats

when they settle?

Ah, there's hardly a fight.

Each man knows what's coming to

him, he just goes and gets it.

Heads, heads, heads...

Tails, tails, tails...

Sixty on tails...

Fair go.

Watch your feet now.

Watch yourself there.

Wait for it. Wait for it now.

Heads!

Four hundred, Charlie,

what do you wanna do?

Put the lot on.

Yeah, Charlie always

goes for 800 or bust.

You gotta throw four heads

in a row to do it, too.

Come on now, hurry up.

Get 'em on.

And what does he do

with the winnings?

Well, nothing.

Simmer down, boys.

Settle down.

Put 'em on,

Charlie, now, come on.

When you're ready, Charles.

When you're ready.

Fair go.

Fair go.

Heads.

Beauty, Charlie.

You're casting

a spell around here.

There's a nice

simple-minded game.

My steak's probably ready.

Yeah, come on.

Here you are.

That'll be a dollar, son.

There's a clean

place here, Jack.

Oh.

Well, I'll have to

be pushing along.

Oh, thanks, jock. Thanks

for showing me around.

Oh, that's all right.

And that'll be

the best dollar's worth

you'll ever have

in your life, Matey.

All the little devils

are proud of hell.

Two heads.

Do you mean you

don't think the yabba

is the greatest

little place on earth?

It could be worse.

How?

The supply of

beer could run out.

Hey, aren't you

going to eat that?

No.

Why did you say that?

Say what?

Well, about them

being proud of hell.

Discontent is a luxury

of the well-to-do.

If you gotta live here,

you might as well like it.

Why don't you like Crawford?

Jock?

The touch of his

hairy hand offends you.

I'm just bored with it.

The aggressive hospitality,

the arrogance of stupid people

who insist you should be

as stupid as they are.

It's death to farm out here.

It's worse than

death in the mines.

Do you want them to

sing opera as well?

And what do you do?

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