@Andy C @Matthew Davidson We got as far as a Motel in Cobar. All the pubs were full or just wouldn't let us in, so dinner was cheese and bread in our room. Watching the local TV channel the advert breaks say a lot about life out here. Public health ads informing us of syphilis and scabies prevention, another one about caring for husband's with Post Traumatic Stress. They seem to have dropped the Disorder part of PTSD, I guess it's just normal round here. Then one about buying bags for homeless people to sleep in, to 'restore their dignity'. The horrors being addressed in every ad break are relentless. Now it's a child struggling to breath.... This is like a modern day Australian Scarfolk on steroids. #wakeinfright
Yes, that is Donald Pleasance. Also, the first screen role for Jack Thompson, who lives up in the hills just behind me (saw him in town once and wondered why that old tramp looked so familiar). Also in trivia, the leading man, Gary Bond, who took second billing to Pleasance, was for some years the partner of Jeremy Brett, the definitive Sherlock Holmes, who once went on a skiing holiday with a mutual friend of @Ruben and I. (By his own account at least. I could not bring myself to press for details; if only Ruben had been present at that revelation!) Brett was earlier married to fellow actor Anna Massey. Her name I noticed once on a post-it note stuck to a shelf in the office of a co-worker who was later to become my girlfriend of nearly a decade. It was memorable because I thought it an odd thing to make a note of in the context of a large multinational corporation, but to this day have never asked her about it. I in turn was, for reasons which shall remain lost to history, born in Broken Hill, the location for the fictional Yabba, the year after this film was shot. I have considered venturing up into the hills to greet Mr Thompson with the cry "Daddy!", in the hope of an inheritance, or at least hush money, but frankly nobody's even going to bother with a DNA test when it comes to me and a bronzed, blond-haired, blue-eyed, quintessentially Aussie bloke, even if we do both dress like tramps these days. It's all connected, though. Join the dots. The truth is out there. Well, it's certainly not in here, at any rate. There's no room for it, with all this mess.
Oh, I've no doubt about my paternity. I am the love child of a cathode ray tube and a record turntable. My DNA is composed of strings of nucleotides like BBC, EMI, ITV, and LWT, and I'm full of hormones and neurotransmitters such as Parlophone and Granada. Whenever somebody in my street got a new TV, my parents would get a call to send me to tune it in for them. Spoke VHF like a native. It's in the wires.