Zirco Goes Berko Lowdown

This programme contains some strong language.

'Resort to tabloid rubbish, and no interview.'

-You know about West Indian cricket?

-More than anybody else.

-Do you want to catch up?

-I'll think about it.

OK, sounds excellent.

Yeah, got to be back by midnight. Yeah, I'm on day one.

Korolev. No, shouldn't be a problem, but you never know.

Hey, I've got to go. Yeah, see you there.

The argument between Australian tennis star, Mitch Zicopoulos,

and his coach and father, George, seemed all the more dramatic

because it was in Greek.

# The wintergreen, the juniper

# The cornflower and the chicory

# Well, all of the words you said to me

# Are still vibrating in the air

# The elm, the ash and the linden tree

# The dark and deep enchanted sea

# The trembling moon and the stars unfurled

# Well, there she goes, my beautiful world

# There she goes, my beautiful world

# There she goes, my beautiful world

# There she goes, my beautiful world

# There she goes again. #

Unbeknownst to Dr James's receptionist, Sharna,

Alex was willing to give their budding romance another shot.

Clive Lloyd used to use a bat that weighed three pounds, two ounces.

1.43 kilos!

Which is pretty heavy.

So, do you want to go to the Twenty20?

I'm not that into cricket any more.

Really? You were three days ago.

Yeah. Do you mind if I get this?

No, sure.

Hello, babes. What time are you on?

You're not going to make indiscreet jokes about us having sex?

SHE LAUGHS

Um, you can go in if you want.

Unbeknownst to Alex, Sharna had started dating a stand-up comedian.

-Everything all right, mate?

-Couldn't be better.

Trish has met a very nice bogan gentleman.

I'm getting to spend more time with the twins, so it's win-win.

So, what have we got today, then?

Well, I've got a pimple, actually, on the sort of... Groinal area.

Give us a peek.

OK.

Ooh! Ooh!

-Itchy?

-Yeah. I'm thinking it could be folliculitis.

Folliculitis? And why would you say that?

Well, I was diagnosed, actually.

-Oh, yeah? By whom?

-Firefly33.

Alex, you can't just go on some chat site for a diagnosis.

Really, these sites should be restricted to properly qualified GPs.

All righty, here we go.

Here's one with pictures, so we should be able... Oh!

-Do you see anything?

-Oh, gee!

-Is it folliculitis?

-No, no, no. You know, I'm pretty sure this is...

-Oh, mercy!

-Should I be worried?

-When was the last time you had sex?

-About three months ago. Why?

Oh, it doesn't matter. They can pop up any time.

Most carriers have no symptoms.

One day, when they're a bit run down, bang. Outbreak.

-Herpes?

-Looks like the big H to me.

Sharna?!

I'll mark this "urgent". We should know by this afternoon.

It's important you alert previous sexual partners to your condition.

-If you like, I can write a letter on your behalf.

-No, I'll do it.

OK.

Um, would you mind labelling

and sending Alex's herpes swab off to the lab? Marked "urgent".

Yeah, sure.

Alex felt that Sharna was taking the news of his incurable STD

a little too well.

If you want to come over, you better be quick, because I'm going out.

No, I'm just ringing because...

I'm wondering if you ever might have an outbreak of anything?

An outbreak?

Yeah, like a pimply rash outbreak, for instance.

No. Why?

That's what adults do, Rita. Inquire about each other's health.

-Right!

-So, you're 100% fine, then?

-Yeah.

-Great.

Are we going to be having these kinds of conversations a lot,

now that we're adults?

We might. Probably not.

Anyway, good talking to you.

-OK. See ya.

-See ya.

TV ANNOUNCER: 'World number three, Mitch Zicopoulos,

'has pulled out of the Classic, with a suspected sprained middle finger.

'However, the Australian champion says he'll be fine to play

'in the Australian Open on Monday.'

Thanks for that.

Morning, Alex.

Hey, Alex!

Hey, Andrea, do you ever go through times when you might get

an outbreak of anything?

-You haven't got herpes, have you?

-No.

-Great.

Can I please see you in the gents?

ANDREA: Yeah, hi. Is Andy there, please?

Does what you've got look anything like...

This?

No, mate. That's nothing like what I've got.

Are you sure? Look again.

Actually, is that a pen mark?

-What?

-It looks like some sort of red ink.

Ink?

Oh, how did...?

What a relief! Thank you so much!

-Gratitude noted, mate.

-(Thank you so much!)

Alex wanted to ask how on Earth Bob had managed to draw on his penis,

but decided against it on the grounds it would involve

a conversation about Bob's penis.

INTERCOM: 'Alex Burchill, my office.'

Alex, before you go, in this week's column, you write,

"Gus van Sant's new movie is entitled 'To Catch a Disease'."

Surely you mean, "TITLED 'To Catch a Disease',"

for to say his next film is, "Entitled 'To Catch a Disease"'

implies the film's God-given right to catch a disease,

when it's just the name of a movie.

Yeah. OK.

Now, that's put a dent in my otherwise fabulous day.

Alex was being sarcastic.

KNOCK ON DOOR

TV ANNOUNCER: 'Organisers apologised after Zicopoulos

-'was forced to pull out...'

-Bob's here too.

-Does he have to be?

-He sort of already is.

-Bob.

-Boss?

-Zirco's pulled out of the Kooyong final.

-Really?

Yes, around 20,000 fans have paid

hard-earned money to see Mitch Zicopoulos...

Do what he does second best.

Apparently, he's a massive rooter.

The implication was noted, mate.

Claims he sprained the right hand middle finger.

I once did that! Actually more painful than you think.

He's at Punt Hill. Trudy will have details. You have till 4.30.

-Right.

-Hey! I got something for you.

A replacement for that laptop you piddled on.

It wasn't me who piddled on it!

All the way from 1999. Excellent.

Pleasure. Now, get me the proof

nothing is wrong with that fornicator's middle finger.

You really don't like other people having sex, do you, sir?

It was true. The editor really didn't like

other people having sex, particularly men.

And, as far as he was concerned, his readers didn't, either.

Great(!) This prehistoric crap's from the Sunday Argus.

Prehistoric!

-PHONE BEEPS

-What's up?

Trudy, just off to interview Zirco.

We seem to have misplaced his room number.

-You don't happen to have it, do you?

-You're kidding!

No, it's a legitimate, fully sanctioned one-on-one.

Why not call his manager, and get the room number?

Oh, one more thing.

I thought I'd better let you know.

There's no space to run that piece on Matt Nugent's Hamlet.

Level seven. But it's a restricted-access floor, Alex.

That's OK. Room number?

-If I don't give you the number?

-Couple of paragraphs.

-If I do, half a page and a photo?

-I don't think so.

He's not hosting Dancing With The Stars.

OK. Well, that'll just have to do.

Do you think your new laptop knows what the internet is?

Yeah!

Should see if it's got any games.

What's up?

They've changed the frigging code!

OK. OK, thank you. That's good news.

He no let down his fans.

-Who might have the code?

-They must have just changed it.

Afternoon, sir.

Tony Greig's here! How's your South African?

-AS TONY GREIG:

-That is a marvellous stroke.

-That's brilliant!

-Thanks, mate!

Yeah, we'll just ride up with the porter.

PHONE RINGS

'Switchboard.'

-AS TONY GREIG:

-Could I please have the front desk?

-'Reception.'

-Ja, hello. It's Tony Greig.

Just wondering if someone from the front desk could come up

and help us with the lock?

Yah, there's something wrong with the lock to the door to our room.

TELEPHONE: 'Certainly, Mr Greig. We'll send someone up.

'What's your room number?'

I don't know.

-OK.

-Plan B?

Look, I'm just going to write it up and fill in the blanks,

if and when we see Zirco.

He's got to come down eventually.

PHONE RINGS Yes?

Ah, yes.

Thank you. I will.

Oh, you're kidding. I've got Dylan Hunt's computer!

This is not auspicious.

It requires a four-letter password.

Say you're a Sunday Argus columnist who thinks he's Hemingway.

What password would you choose?

-"Face".

-"Face"?

-He's got a very big face.

-But he doesn't know that!

He might.

Even if he does, he's not going to go, "I've got a very big face.

"I might make 'face' my password."

-Hates it.

-"Head"?

PHONE RINGS

-Alex Burchill.

-Dylan! How are you?

Great. You interviewed Zirco's finger yet?

Mate, I'm just ringing to say that

-I'm the proud new owner of your 1999 laptop.

-Excellent.

Which I'm sure was home to many of your awkward,

five-line sentences over the past decade.

Now it'll get to experience the joy of the monosyllable.

That's words with only one syllable(!)

Yeah, I know.

Look, um, thing is, you forgot to re-format it,

so I'm going to need a password.

Oh, shit. Um, OK.

PHONE BEEPS

Alex?

Dylan?!

Hello?

Shit!

Alex?! You're at Punt Hill?

-Yeah, mate. What's your password?

-Hello?

-Fuck!

-Bummer.

Dylan HUNT? Four letters. I reckon he'd risk it.

-LAPTOP BEEPS

-Or not.

There's Judith Lucy! She'd have the code.

Judith! Hi.

Alex. How are you?

Good, good.

Supposed to be meeting a friend up on level seven.

You don't have the code, do you? I've forgotten it,

he's not answering his phone.

Oh, now, Alex, I like you.

If you were just a regular guy who'd forgotten his code,

I'd give it to you in a shot. But the thing is,

you work for a tabloid newspaper.

And giving you the code to a secure floor

kinda defeats the purpose of having a secure floor in the first place.

-Really?

-Have a really great day.

'Reception.'

-Yeah, can someone bring my gear up?

-'Yes, of course.'

-Thanks.

-'You're welcome.'

"Bone?"

Mate, it's not going to be a body part.

What about writers? Amis.

Martin... Amis.

"Foot?"

LIFT PINGS

Yeah, we're on level seven too. Thanks, mate.

What's the code, then?

-Bob?

-9-7-8-3.

That is not even remotely close.

Yeah, remember? That's the old one, before the...

It's actually 6-2-1-7.

I'm going to have to ask you to both exit the lift.

Mate, I've had some bad medical news today, so not thinking straight...

-Out!

-It's 7-2-3...

-Out.

-Oh, right.

And don't try and crack the code

cos on your third botched attempt, the lift doors will lock

and sleeping gas will pour out of the vents.

Bullshit!

No, new anti-terrorism measure.

I'm sorry, Mr Seymour Hoffman,

the same rules apply to you as everyone else.

-'Hi. You've called Dylan Hunt. I can't take...'

-Shit.

Rob!

Burchie! How are you?

Good, good. What are you up to?

-I'm just visiting a mate.

-Yeah, me too.

I'm meant to be meeting someone up there.

-But I forgot the code to the lift.

-Oh.

-Are you going up?

-Yeah. In a minute.

I'm just a bit puffed. I might take a mo.

-Just grab it from the front desk.

-No, I can wait with you. That's fine.

Yeah...good.

-God, no. He's meeting me down here. What am I thinking?

-Oh, right.

-Just grab it from the front desk. I'd better text him.

-OK. Thanks, mate.

CONTINUES SHOUTING IN GREEK

-Got it.

-Awesome. Now ring the concierge.

-Why can't you ring him?

Mate, I just think my Tony Greig will suffer

if I take on any more impersonations. OK?

'Reception.'

-IN BAD GREEK ACCENT:

-Hello. George Zicopoulos here.

'What can I do for you, sir?'

Mitch needs a Panadol for his sore finger. Can you send that up?

'Certainly, sir. What's your room number again?'

I don't know the bloody room number. What am I, a bellhop? Look it up!

'Certainly, sir. We'll get that to your room right away.'

-You like?

-Thought you might have overcooked one or two moments,

but overall, I did like, yes.

Thanks, mate.

-Hey.

-G'day.

-Dylan!

-Give it here.

STARTUP TONE

Hallelujah! What was the password?

-None of your business.

-"Fist".

It's not "fist". It's "Fiat".

Hold your horses. I have to erase it.

-Just give it here. I won't read it.

-One can't be too careful.

One might have reason to worry

if one could follow one's convoluted prose.

PHONE RINGS

Any news?

I can honestly say I've got good news and bad news.

All right. What's the bad news?

It's a strong possibility

you were bit on the doodle by a white-tailed spider.

-Right.

-Now, these white-tailed bites have a flesh-eating venom.

And, well, it's possible

that your penis will become necrotic and eventually drop off.

-Isn't there some antibiotics I can take?

-'Fraid not.

Right. OK. Uh, what's the good news?

Oh. Uh, you don't have herpes.

-Brilliant(!)

-I'll call you back when I know more.

Mate, it's not going to drop off.

Yeah, all right.

Have you ever heard of anyone's penis dropping off?

I knew a guy with no penis.

They give you a plastic one. It's mostly functional.

-Very little feeling, of course.

-How's the erasing going?

All done. Do you want me to adjust the preferences

to accept sentence fragments?

I'll cope, thanks.

OK. See you later.

LIFT PINGS

Has it worked?

3, 7, 8 and 0.

Try 3-7-0-8.

-How many variations to go?

-22.

Right, so there's a 96% chance

the next combination you enter will get us gassed.

Yeah, but there's a 4% chance we'll get it right!

I don't think the gods are smiling on us today, buddy.

PHONE RINGS

Alex Burchill.

I can only assume you've abandoned Zirco and are currently enjoying

the Harmony rejuvenation package in the hotel spa.

-Never assume.

-Or talk back to the boss.

Do you know what's being promoted to page one

courtesy of your Zirco no-show?

-Matt Newton's Hamlet?

-'No.'

The western sewerage treatment plant's sprung a leak.

'I was thinking How Do You Solve A Problem Like Urea?'

-Genius.

-Sir, we'll get Zirco.

Good. It'll cheer up Janine.

She thinks she's got herpes.

Is that...Rita?

-What are you doing here?

-Just seeing a friend. What about you?

Friend. Maybe we're meeting the same friend.

Maybe!

Does your friend's name start with the letter Z?

-Maybe.

-This is great. We can ride up together.

We can not.

Well, just give me the code and we can ride up after.

I'll think about it.

ALARM BLARES

-What happened?

-You were gassed. You must have punched in the wrong code.

Do you even know Zirco?

Yeah! I met him at Eve.

He said I should drop by sometime.

-Right...

-So he gave you the code?

-Not really.

-Do you even have it?

Yeah, I've got three. They rotate them.

My friend said there was no way I'd get gassed as you get three chances.

But I only entered in one, and then...

psshhhh!

Yeah, I think problems arise

when a certain party enters two incorrect codes

immediately before another party enters one incorrect code.

-Which ones didn't you try?

-Um...

1-7-8-9 and 3-0-7-8.

-3-0-7-8!

-Oh!

Did you tell her your herpes news?

-What?

-Yeah, um...

Apparently, I don't have herpes.

Oh, right.

So, are you going to be OK?

Yeah, I think so.

Great! We'll see you later.

LIFT RUMBLES

ANGRY SHOUTING IN GREEK

-They're bringing the Porsche around?

-Yep.

Sorry, Mr Zicopoulos. Just doing my job!

Mr Zicopoulos, what do you say

to the 20,000 people who paid to see you play?

Where are you going now? Will you be refunding their money?

Mr Zicopoulos, can you explain to the Australian people...

How's the finger?

Do you think the public have a right to be suspicious?

CAR REVS

CRASH!

Thus ends the shortest car chase in television history.

What have you got?

We got some great snaps of Zirco not wanting to be snapped.

His security broke a 10,000 lens in the process.

And I had a minor car accident trying to pursue him.

-Did you get a look at his finger?

-He had it covered.

-Did he say anything?

-"No comment."

-OK, well, put it all in.

The non-apology, his thug purposely breaking the 10,000 lens

as we fearlessly pursued the truth on behalf of the Australian public.

You've got 20 minutes. I'm holding page 17.

Well, that was an afternoon well spent.

I guess I can look forward to my circa-1999 replacement lens.

Bloody James hasn't called yet.

Mate. Look to your left.

Hey, Zirco...

stop fucking following us!

-Yes! Thank you!

-Gotcha!

Three-and-a-half grand for a dent and a broken headlight.

-And a respray.

-Still, do you know

how many celebrities I have to interview for that?

PHONE RINGS

Mate, I'm here for you, penis or no penis.

Thanks, buddy.

What's the news?

Turns out you weren't bitten by a white-tailed.

-It's not herpes, is it?

-'No.'

Looks like a touch of folliculitis.

'It's where a hair follicle becomes infected.'

That's what I said in the first place.

Yes, but it's not an official diagnosis until it's been confirmed

by a qualified medical professional.

Right. So, antibiotics?

Writing a script as we speak.

'Oopsy-daisy! Got to go. Twins are here.'

CHILD CRIES No, no, no. Very sharp. Very sharp.

Folliculitis.

So Firefly33 was right!

You can always rely on the internet.

Yeah. Although hotdoc42 diagnosed it as gangrene,

so you never know.

A wise man once said,

"If you're stuck in the mud,

"you have to walk through the mud

"to get out of the mud."

I don't think that's particularly relevant.

I've just always found it interesting.

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd