01x02 - Furrowing the Fuhrer's Brow!

[bunniefuu]

We're very fortunate to be billeted

to Mr Harry Whitmore's farm,

where his wife is Italian.

So technically the enemy.

You can call me Frankie.

He's enlisted. His wife's in charge now.

Why aren't you with the

other brave boys? Coward!

- Francesca! Bella!

- Ciao, Des!

We're f*cked.

All of those apples has

to make it to harvest.

Do not upset those useless

girls. We need them.

What?

(SCREAMS)

They're going to build

a prisoner of w*r camp!

Don't you worry. You'll be safe.

You're a Whitmore.

(SIGHS)

Ow. Ow, ow!

What?! Oh, shoo!

Are you gonna help, or just lie

there getting your finger sucked?

What's the point?

We've been k*lling bugs for weeks.

It doesn't make a bloody difference.

We need bloody pesticide.

Is Frankie back yet?

She knows what we're up to.

Frankie I'm not up to anything.

This insect.

She thinks I'm some vengeful God.

I'm sorry, little one.

Gosh, you are high as a

kite on methylated spirits

and shouldn't be up a ladder.

Swap.

Maybe Frankie's collecting my luggage.

I hope it arrives by the fundraiser.

I hope she's getting money

so we can finally be paid.

(SHOP BELL RINGS)

Good morning, Mrs Whitmore.

Good morning, Mrs Bushell.

Any word from your husband?

- No, not yet.

- Oh.

Let's trust no news is good news.

(CHUCKLES KINDLY)

Oh. Will we see you at

the fundraiser tomorrow?

Of course.

I never miss one.

Oh, wonderful.

Your generous contribution

to the w*r effort

does not go unnoticed.

Thank you.

Next.

Good day, Herbert.

I told you, Mrs Whitmore:

only my teacher calls me that.

- Herbie.

- Oh, Herbie.

So distinguished.

I wish to take money

from my husband's account.

Withdrawal.

Pardon?

You withdraw money from the bank.

You're so lucky to

learn English as a child.

We've been over this, Mrs Whitmore.

You're not a signatory.

This is our marriage certificate.

It proves I have the

right to take the money.

Herbie.

I need to pay the Land Army girls.

I'd like to help you.

But you're not only a

lady, you're also foreign.

It's a lot.

It is.

So

You must have the power.

You could show me your maracas.

My what?

- How old are you?

- Doesn't matter.

It really does.

What matters is that I control

the finances in this town.

Next.

So if you've got rats or mice

- Mr Goodwin.

- or foxes or bilbies

- or wallabies

- Mr Goodwin!

Good morning.

When will our pesticide arrive?

The maggot fly. They're so bad.

And they're eating my money.

(LOUDLY) I'm sorry, Mrs Whitmore.

Delays are beyond my control.

Supply chain issues.

I can hear you.

Supply

chain

issues, huh?

Besides, you didn't get

your order in on time.

- Huh?

- There's a time.

- Yeah.

- Yeah.

I'm surprised Harry didn't place

the order before he enlisted.

This is so helpful.

Maybe have a chat to Des.

He'll be able to help you out. Huh?

I'll with Des.

So

Tooroo!

Your shift's over.

Run for the hills.

(SCOFFS)

Here you go.

Yummy.

You know, the insects have quite

a sophisticated social structure.

Yeah, these shifts need to be shorter.

In fact, the colony

appears to turn on any males

that fail to protect it.

Wow. There is so much to

unpack there, you know?

Someone with a more open

mind might make the case

that these maverick

males are visionaries,

bravely exploring other ideas of being

beyond the restrictive definitions

imposed on them by their gender,

with its emphasis on physical strength

as an indicator of worth.

That is a case that could be made

if for some reason you felt

the need to defend yourself.

(CHUCKLES)

I know you're looking.

(LAUGHS)

I wasn't looking at you.

I was looking at the apples.

- Yeah.

- I was!

See you at dinner.

Damn you, Harry. Where

did you put the key?

Knock, knock.

- Lost the key?

- Si.

How did it go at the bank?

Not good. But it's alright.

Harry kept most of the

harvest money in here.

Oh, well, I don't mind.

It's Esther who's fretting.

Gosh, that colour really suits you.

(SAWING CONTINUES)

So, anyway, you're probably

wondering why I'm here

during my break.

- I received a letter from my aunt.

- (SPEAKS ITALIAN)

Mummy says I take after her.

Did I mention she was a suffragette?

She got arrested and everything,

and she thinks about women all the time.

Their rights and such!

- (SPEAKS ITALIAN)

- So I am completely relaxed.

What are you talking about?

Oh, I see! Didn't SEE a thing.

(LAUGHS NERVOUSLY)

You know, but I can be trusted.

(SHOUTS) Fanculo! Vaffanculo!

(EXHALES)

Well, I'll just leave you to it.

Thank you.

So it's all sorted.

First I bailed out Barry,

then I had a chinwag with Pete,

and then I scratched Trevor's back,

and voila.

Pesticide - first thing!

Thank you, Des.

Imagine what we could do without you.

It was nothing, really.

No. Just glad I could help.

That smells good. Is that rosemary?

Um

We can share what little we have.

Yum, yum, yum. Pig's bum.

An extra potato, if there's one going.

Magic!

Yes, sir.

Shall we say, midday for the big spray?

Mother enjoys my company for breakfast.

That's very kind of you, Des,

but you don't have to help.

I wasn't actually going to hold a hose.

It's it's more of a supervisory role.

I can do that.

It's a big job.

Women can do big jobs.

(CHUCKLES)

They can.

They can.

Oh!

I'll be here at midday.

(ROOSTER CROWS)

(STRAINS)

Easy, easy, easy, easy, easy

More. More. Yes. Watch there.

(UPBEAT MUSIC PLAYS)

I can't open Harry's lockbox.

We have to pay them, Robert.

We're weeks overdue.

How's that my problem?

The key.

Must be on him.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

My constitution is not

suited to this task.

Well, I can't. I have

to go to the fundraiser.

Well, don't look at

me, I'm serving at it!

Let's just do this another day.

No, it has to be done when

the girls are at the dance.

sh*t. Is it midday already?

- Ciao, Francesca.

- Ciao, Des.

Oh, no! I'm dirty.

Ready to get going?

It's done.

I thought we said noon.

I decided earlier,

before the wind picks up.

- Is it done properly?

- Si.

Without a hitching.

Where are the girls?

This that needs

mowing. And m-mend this.

And what's this pile of rubbish?

They're getting ready

for the fundraiser.

We worked so hard.

We need some fun.

No?

I'll save a dance for you.

Hello. Thank you.

Thank you for coming along.

On behalf of myself, Mayor

Burke, Mrs Whitmore, senior,

and her youngest son, Des,

we'd like to bid farewell

to our local ladies

who've enlisted in the services.

Not as sad as when the

men leave, of course.

Let's be honest:

they're unlikely to die.

But bravo, girls.

Also, it's Miss Arnott's

60th birthday. Yes.

So please have a slice of

one of the 17 Madeira cakes.

Plus, there's our

ongoing scrap metal drive

- for the w*r effort.

- (BANG)

Oh! Thanks, June.

And, of course, Mrs Harry Whitmore

is here, as usual, raising funds.

So enjoy a bottle of

her delicious cider,

knowing that every penny

is sticking it to Hitler.

Or should that be Mussolini?

(LAUGHTER)

Now grab a partner and cut

the rug, as the youth say,

to our marvellous bush school band.

Mrs Whitmore.

May I?

Oh, you won't attract a

husband if you eat that.

It was Mother's birthday last week.

And, yes, a little token

would have been appreciated,

but I won't carp.

Don't want the mafia on my back.

What was odd was that a card

failed to arrive from Harry.

It's just unlike him,

considering how perfect he is.

The mail, it's so crazy right now.

Des

May I ask you a favour?

Yes, of course. Anything.

The girls, they haven't been paid.

I promised them this week, but

I'd love to help.

I really would. Um

Money's still a bit tight for me.

The expenses setting up

the internment camp and

Of course.

Don't you worry your

pretty little head about it.

We'll have a bumper harvest

and all our problems will be behind us.

May I cut in?

No, Des, not you.

Scusami.

I could kiss you.

Oh, w-well

So my aunt, the suffragette,

she has this very close friend.

They do everything together.

Their connection, it's rather special.

Suppose you'd call her a special friend.

May I?

I don't believe we've formally met.

Rita.

Gwen eth. Gwyneth. Gwen. Gwen.

Oh, don't you look cute in your khaki?

Trousers are much more practical.

(CHUCKLES)

Per favore

Of course I'm upset.

I'm going away for God knows how long,

and you're being q*eer.

Shhh!

Someone will hear.

Why can't I write you as myself?

Why pretend to be Harry?

He hates to write.

And it will look odd if I

only get letters from you.

Hmm.

You said you would do anything for me.

Don't start.

It's our last time together.

Tomorrow you'll be gone.

And you'll be on to

the next married woman.

Shh Don't say that.

It's from Terry. He's in New Guinea.

Sandy beaches and palm trees, eh?

Lucky sod.

Will you be joining

him after the harvest?

Medical condition. Remember, Mr Wong?

Chronic underachievement.

It's nothing serious, but

Robert, we miss you.

We all do.

Just because Terry is away

doesn't mean you can't come round.

All done. Thanks, Murray.

Oi, Robert!

Goodie, the help's here.

"More caviar, girl, quick sticks!"

I'm never quick sticking you

again if you keep that up.

- Here.

- Don't have the time.

Why are you still here?

You got that important job.

Yes, and I am very

keyed up about that.

The missus still gunning for me?

She called you loose and wanton.

- Wanting what?

- Something about out of wedlock?

She wants us married up, eh?

Well, to hell with marriage.

Just another colonial simulation tool.

Yeah, of course.

One of the better ones, though, eh?

Tell Neville to get off that Jesus train

and make sure he doesn't

brainwash little Homer.

Hey.

(CLICKS TONGUE)

(CHUCKLES)

(MOANING)

Ah!

(PANTING)

Ah!

(BANGING ON DOOR)

MRS ARNOTT: The door's locked

again! Can you break it down?

Oh! Hello.

Are you the Jewish one?

(MOUTHS)

You'll have to speak

up, dear. I'm a bit deaf.

(WHISPERS) Gwen.

Ben?

Oh, for Pete's sake, Gwen!

I've got something for you.

Oh, er, I don't need anything.

- Thank you.

- Come on.

I know you want to.

Coral.

No, I-I

I really don't.

- All men do.

- Oh!

(GIGGLES) No, not not me.

What's wrong with me?

Coral, sweetie, do you

mean metaphysically or ?

Why are you still here?

Again, metaphysically?

You're a traitor.

Right.

You're not a real man!

You're not a real man.

My brother's fighting.

You're not a real man!

Your dad is a hero!

- You're not a real man.

- (GLASS SHATTERS)

You get that punchy traitor!

- Get him!

- What a coward. Get him.

Not a real man!

- There's blood.

- sh*t.

- I'm bleeding?

- Yeah, you are bleeding.

FRANKIE: You got drunk. You deserve it.

They are as aggressive

as the men. Maybe worse.

Did you get the key?

One of them. (LAUGHS)

You didn't, did you?

You were drinking instead

of doing what I asked for.

Now I have to take care of it!

As I always do.

(HOLDS BREATH)

(GASPS)

Try his pocket.

(BOTH RETCH)