"Ohh." "Uh, do you mind?" "You bet, mate." "You ready?" "Beautiful." "No worries." "Cheers." "You can't even do a wee in peace." "Oh, it's nice to give something back." "Hey, does Essie get hassled as well?" "Oh, does she ever." "I don't really care, you know, as long as they leave the kids alone." "Ben?" "I'm gonna need to see some cash up front." "Certainly." "There you are." "It's supposed to be $360." "The lady on the phone said $300." "You, um, take credit?" "Cash only." "Look, I'm, um I'm in 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' at the Botanic Gardens." "Happy you put you on the door." "Look, I'm sorry, if you don't have the cash..." "It's OK." "Here's 60, mate." "OK." "Thank you, man." "It's for a good cause." "No worries." "That's a beautiful frock." "You know you have lovely skin." "We should get rid of those, hey?" "Mm." "Lose the, uh..." "Ohh." "How'd you go?" "Oh, that is glorious." "Boss, just got Ben Hollander in a toilet tryst with a $360-a-pop callgirl, pics included." "Yep, drugs as well." "Yep, he's still married." "I'm thinking 'Gotcha - Hooker, Line and Stinker'." "* The wintergreen, the juniper" "* 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. *" "The 'Sunday Sun's number one columnist Alex Burchill has done many things he isn't proud of and the things he is proud of are morally reprehensible." "Hey." "Caught Ben Hollander, hey?" "I guess you won't be wanting those tickets to 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'." "No, no, I'll take them." "Oh, OK." "Bob, Bob!" "Janine, I need to claim $60 on expenses." "Seth Rogen's people called." "Apparently you referred to him as Seth 'Bogan' in your column." "They want to know if it was a typo or a misguided attempt at humour." "I think it was a misguided attempt at humour." "Oh." "Alan, are you OK, mate?" "I'm meant to be showing the new cadet around, but I find him strangely intimidating." "Mate, I think you just need to bite the bullet." "But what if he doesn't like me?" "Hey, do you need me for anything?" "No, no, you're right." "Susan's asked me to redo her head shot." "She wants a happy one." "OK." "Alex, re your Hollander piece, in the fourth para, you write," ""'The lady on the phone told me $300,' declared Hollander."" "Mmm." "Perhaps we should use 'said' rather than 'declared', unless, of course, he shouted it as if from a rooftop." ""The lady on the phone told me $300!" Did he do that?" "No." "OK." "We'll stick with 'said', then." "OK." "Hey, what's going on with Neil?" "The editor's sacking people." "Oh, no!" "Don't look." "He's watching us." "Just pretend we're having a normal conversation." "Alright, um, so what are you doing on the weekend?" "Actually, I'm gonna have a threesome." "Right." "Hmm, I'm going in." "Wish me luck." "Oh, shut the door." "What are they saying?" "All good." "We still don't have a splash." "How are things going with Wasp Warneke?" "Hope van der Boom looking after him?" "No, Trudy March." "Ooh." "Yeah, he doesn't 'do' tabloids, apparently." "Wanker." "Mmm." "Tell Trudy if she gives us a face-to-face with him," "I'll do a piece on him saving the Amazon." "She's worried we're gonna ask him about Tantra." "I'll tell you what, mate - if this paper were in trouble, it'd be pieces on blokes rooting sheilas for five hours." "That'd keep it afloat." "Is it in trouble?" "Nup." "I notice Neil's leaving." "Well, we can't carry B-graders." "Neil's a Walkley winner." "Is he?" "What?" "!" "Oh, great!" "Is that Wendy?" "Must have read my email." "We're streamlining the gardening pages too." "Should I be worried?" "No, because you're going to get Trudy March to give us an exclusive with one of rock'n'roll's most enduring rooters." "Rock'n'roll's most enduring rooter had arrived in town to promote his new album 'Concubine of the Soul'." "Trudy." "Alex Burchill." "How are you?" "It's not going to happen, Alex." "What if the piece focuses on his plans to save the Amazon?" "You gonna be able to get your editors to go for that?" "Yeah, they'll love it." "Our readers are starting to get their heads around environmental issues." "Yeah, what about the profound wisdom of Tantric sex?" "I don't know." "Who's really interested in a man having sex with this wife?" "Five hours - it's a long time, Alex." "Are you sure your readers won't be interested?" "No, it's just not news." "Watch out." "OK, good." "Wasp hates being asked about Tantra." "So we're on?" "The thing is he only wants quality press." "What are you talking about?" "You said I was one of Australia's top writers." "I'll see what I can do." "You handled the situation perfectly, mate." "Thanks, mate." "So how are you gonna get him to talk about Tantra?" "Alex was on his way to see Dr James who regularly talked him through his cyberchondria - a condition where any ache and pain is typed into a search engine and comes out 'cancer'." "You're new." "Yeah." "Your name?" "Uh, are you alright?" "What?" "The face not ringing any bells or?" "Are you famous or something?" "Well..." "Peter Helliar?" "No, not Peter Helliar." "Alex Burchill, columnist for the 'Sunday Sun'." "Oh." "I went to school with Dr James." "He hasn't mentioned me?" "No." "Um, do you want to just take a seat in there?" "Yeah." "What have we got today, then?" "It seems something's wrong with my bottom, actually." "Inside the bottom itself?" "Yeah." "A bit of blood and what have you?" "A bit of that, yeah." "Whip them off." "Can't I just describe the symptoms?" "Come on, snap, snap." "Mate, he's gotta examine ya." "Do you need to be here?" "No." "Did you, uh, see the new receptionist on the way in?" "Yeah." "We had a bit of a cuddle last night, just quietly." "Oh, yeah." "Actually, do you mind if I get this?" "Ugh." "Hope she doesn't fall in love with me, 'cause that'd be awkward." "Trudy." "So I told Wasp's people you'd put the Amazon in the first part and it got you over the line." "Oh, great." "Thank you for that." "I thought you would be happier." "Oh, I'm happy." "Oh!" "Uh-huh." "Tomorrow, 5:30, Park Hyatt." "It's a restricted-access floor, so I will text you the code for the lift." "And, Alex, if you resort to any of that tabloid rubbish, we'll kill the interview." "Oh, it feels a bit rough up there, soldier." "What does that mean?" "I don't know if it's skin tags, cracks in the anus wall or the beginnings of a pile." "A complete bloody mystery." "Best course of action is to get you in for a couple of X-rays." "Sharna!" "Just out of interest, you haven't been engaging in any receptive anal sex, have you?" "No." "Can we get old mate in for some X-rays of his anus wall?" "Yeah, sure." "Alex thought he detected a slight smirk on the face of Dr James's new receptionist." "After the X-rays, Alex went to see his girlfriend, Rita." "The couple had met at an exhibition of her series of photographs featuring misanthropic Eastern European men crying." "Alex had told her he was 'exultant' about the series." "Rita loved the word 'exultant', and now they were moving in together." "You still OK with all this?" "Yeah!" "Great." "Hey, I got the interview with Wasp." "Oh, yeah." "That's great." "You know I'm not married to Bob." "I am able to use other photographers." "Really?" "Yeah." "I mean, is Wasp Warneke someone you'd like to photograph?" "Oh, yeah." "Don't have to if you don't want to." "No, no, no." "I'll do it." "OK, let's do it." "OK." "Thanks, baby." "No worries." "So where do you want this?" "Oh, shit." "My parents!" "Sorry, Rita." "I'm so sorry." "Oh, why weren't you helping him?" "I offered." "I said no." "I don't think he should be lifting heavy shit with his arse in the condition it's in." "What's going on with your arse?" "Oh, just a bit of, you know..." "It should be fine." "Oh, OK." "Then again, it could be cancer, so..." "Occasionally, I like to drop a bombshell on her just to scare her into loving me a little bit more." "Well, she sure could love you a bit more." "Really?" "Well, we could all love each other a bit more." "I mean, on occasion, I think you could love me a bit more." "I love you, mate." "I love you too, mate." "Is here OK?" "We were hoping for something inside." "Inside's full." "Are you sure?" "I'll check again." "Thanks." "Wanna?" "Yeah." "So Wasp, hey?" "Yeah." "Do you reckon he likes 'Wasp' or 'Wasp Warneke'?" "Either's fine." "Might shoot him in the lotus position, nude if we can, surrounded him with a couple of models, nude if we can, doing some sort of incense dance." "It'll go nicely with your Tantra angle." "You like?" "Sure." "What do you mean, "Sure"?" "The thing is, mate, I was talking to Rita before." "No." "Just this once." "Oh, mate, I'm sorry, but things are really touch-and-go with me and Rita at the moment." "You said it yourself." "And you know how big a fan she is of Wasp's." "So this is the end." "Not at all." "You're my main man." "Where are you going?" "I can't look at you right now." "Bob." "Bob!" "Bob!" "We've a table inside for you, Mr Sandilands." "Hey." "Hey." " Alex." "Hey, mate." "Got the X-rays." "They OK?" "I'd like you to come in tomorrow at 4:30, if you could." "Can't you tell me on the phone?" "Sorry, mate, has to be face-to-face." "OK, just cough once if everything's fine, twice if it's not fine but curable and three times if it's terminal." "I think that would technically be a breach of regulations, mate." "Isn't diddling your new receptionist in breach of regulations?" "I highly doubt it." "Right." "See you tomorrow." "Hey, Alex, which should I go for?" "This one or this one?" "Depends if you want happy or special." "OK." " Hey, mate." "I got the interview with Wasp." "Yeah, good." "The knock is now..." "OK." "We're gonna have to rotate them." "They're cottoning on." "Alan used it before." "Completely caught me off guard." "Oh, you're joking!" "Is that Alan?" "B-grader." "Make sure you get Wasp talking about Tantra - the dirtier, the better." "I'll see what I can do." "Alex wondered whether 'Sunday Sun' editor Howard Evans was wearing a toupee." "New frame!" "Oh, you got me some lilies!" "Are they OK?" "Yeah, they're great even though I've told you a few times" "I don't have a vase big enough for lilies." "Oh, that's right." "I'm so sorry." "That's OK." "I can cut the stems." "Thanks, baby." "We can get a better frame." "Maybe we shouldn't have photos of our parents in the living room." "Yeah, you're right." "Are you gonna take yours away?" "But they don't really look like parents." "What do they look like?" "Models." "The next day, Rita wanted to apologise for being disparaging about Alex's parents." "But then again, an apology might weaken her zero-tolerance policy on having photographs of them in her living room." "Babe, are you still upset about the photo?" "No, no, I'm fine about the photo." "Oh, are you worried about your doctor's appointment?" "Mmm." "Oh, your anus wall is going to be fine, babe." "You reckon?" "Yes!" "Just like the melanoma on your neck turned out to be a freckle and the testicular cancer turned out to be an ingrown hair, except, of course, for the calcium deposit on your penis which turned out to be a genital wart." "I'll tell you what - if it's nothing," "I'm gonna take you to Florentino's for dinner." "Oh, great!" "What if it turns out to be something?" "Well, I'd imagine we'd both be miserable and not feel like going out." "Oh, yeah, of course." "Hey, you got the code for the lift?" "4395." "Yep." "See you up there." "Hmm." "Mmm." "Mmm." "Just so you know, I have to be across town in half an hour." "What you've got is a shadow on the anus wall." "I looked it up and she could be one of three things - a rectal prolapse, a rectocele fissure or an anal fissure." "These are often the result of receptive anal intercourse." "Or it could be cancer." "Then again, it could be papillae resulting from trauma caused by a hard stool or an irritating liquid stool, but that's very unlikely." "So you don't know what it is?" "No." "A proper coloproctologist has gotta look at these X-rays first." "Why didn't you get a coloproctologist to look at it before I came here?" "Thought wanted to be kept in the loop." "You just call me when you know what it is." "I'll probably know by this evening." "Good!" "You alright, mate?" "I'm late for the most important interview of the year and I've just found out I might have cancer of the fucking arse!" "Or some sort of repetitive strain disorder from copping a few big ones." "Thank you, mate." "That's a huge weight off my shoulders." "Alex wondered if Dr James had got the irony of his last statement." "What?" "Hey, mate." "It's me." "I just wanted to say how sorry I am about the whole Wasp thing." "And?" "And?" "Destroying?" "Destroying..." "Our p... par..." "Partnership?" "Yes." "And my I..." "I..." "Life?" "Libido." "Sorry about that, mate." "Look, um, my car's actually broken down." "Just a bit of bad luck." "Yeah, you're right." "I should never have bothered you." "I'll get a cab." "No, no." "I'll pick you up." "No, I'm at Dr Jim's." "I've gotta be at the Park Hyatt in 25." "It'll be cutting it too fine." "Alex, I will get you there." "I'll see you in five." "26 past the hour." "The man's in town." "Here's Wasp Warneke with 'Concubine of the Soul'." "Mate, once we're on the other side of those lights, we will be flowing." "How's the arse?" "There's a shadow on it." "Oh, mate, a shadow?" "Go!" "Go!" "Are you OK?" "Yeah." "How long have we got?" "About five or three minutes." "Oi, don't do that!" "Jesus, it's green!" "Get in the car and drive." "Drive!" "Oh!" "Do you have a problem, mate?" "I should warn you, I've just had some pretty bad medical news." "Don't fucking honk people, you impatient shit." "I thought that went well." "What time is it?" "We're a little late." "OK, just lift your chin a little bit." "That's good." "Beautiful." "OK, that's it." "How did that all go?" "Nice." "You know, I can tell from your eyes that you've got a lot going on up here." "Thank you." "I don't know where Alex is." "He's not normally late, is he?" "Oh, no." "He should be here any minute." "Excuse me." "Hello." "Trudy, Bob." "Alex's car broke down." "I picked him up, but we're now in a traffic jam and also there's been a road rage incident which Alex conducted himself very well in." "Anything else?" "Uh, Alex just found out he's got a shadow on his anus wall." "Anyway, we were wondering if he could do a phoner." "Oh, for God's sake!" "He apologises profusely." "You tell him no Tantric sex." "If he even mentions it, end of interview." "Shall do, Trudy." "I'll get Wasp." "She says, "No Tantric sex." ""If you even mention it, end of interview."" "It's on speaker, mate." "Don't shoot the messenger." "So Alex can't make it." "He's in a traffic jam." "Would you mind doing a phoner?" "Sure." "Who's this?" "Wasp, Alex Burchill from the 'Sunday Sun.'" "Thanks so much for talking to me." "Pleasure." "I've been briefed and I understand you don't want to talk about Tantra, but on a personal note, let me say I'm in awe of the fact that you're able to fornicate for five hours at a time." "Eight hours." "If you're going to report it, you may as well get it right." "Eight hours, straight." "Eight hours." "Amazing." "That's amazing." "But, I mean, it's not about going eight hours at a time." "Any mug can go on all day." "Well, not just any mug." "No." "It's how you do it that counts." "Sadly, a lot of guys don't know the fundamentals about arousing a woman." "One should start with the tip of the nose, move to the point just beneath the eye, then onto the stomach and then the yoni." "Yoni?" "Now, if you move from one spot to the next, to the next, and then retrace your steps, what ends up happening is you develop a circle of love." "Don't forget the bottom lip either." "Suck on that in the right manner and she'll achieve a clitoral orgasm in no time at all." "And the wonderment of all this is she'll have had the most incredible experience of her sexual life and that's before she's even been penetrated." "You don't just wake up one day and become a Tantric expert." "You've got to do your sex-ercises." "Squeeze the sphincter and relax." " Yep." "Squeeze the sphincter and relax." "Oh, sorry." "Are you doing it?" "No, not at the moment." "We're actually..." "This is invaluable information." "I'm not just telling you 'cause I like the sound of my own voice." "No, I appreciate that, Wasp." "Do as I say." "Squeeze and relax." "Squeeze and relax." "Squeeze..." "Wasp?" "Wasp?" "!" "No, we've lost him." "Well, go on - squeeze and relax." "You're doing it, aren't you?" "No, I'm not doing it." "Yeah, you are." "Your ears moved." "You made it!" "Can I still see him?" "You have five minutes." "Squeeze and relax." "Squeeze and relax." "Rita!" "You said you weren't coming!" "Well, I made it, didn't I?" "Hey..." "No!" "Mate, oi." "Bob, no." "No!" "Mate, no." "Excuse me." "Hey!" "No!" "Welcome." "Spare bed's yours for as long as you want it." "Thanks, mate." "I might get us a beer." "Maybe you should ring up about that shadow." "Yeah, alright." "Mate, you're better off knowing." "What you don't know might actually kill ya." "Thank you, mate." "That's very reassuring." "Hey, mate." "Mate, the results came back this afternoon." "And?" "Negative, mate." "Negative." "That's good, isn't it?" "Yeah, you're all clear." "Just a bit of papillae caused by an irritating liquid stool." "Right." "A course of antibiotics and you'll be as... as good as new." "What's wrong with you, then?" "Sharna called it off." "Oh, mate, I'm sorry." "Can I come over?" "Sure." "Alex, it's for you!" "What do you want?" "I just wanted to make sure your arse was OK." "Yeah, it's fine." "Oh, that's great, baby." "I was so worried." "You do realise we've broken up?" "Yeah!" "Alex wrote the Wasp story as he saw it, beat by disturbing beat." "It would go on to be nominated for a Walkley, as would Bob's candid photograph of Wasp and Rita." "Later, Rita would reclaim the incident in an exhibition where she set up a tent appliquéd with the names of every rock star she slept with between 1996 and 2010, entitled 'Every Rock Star I Slept With Between 1996 and 2010'." "Chook's done!" "Later, Dr James would watch 'Dr Strangelove' and wonder whether love was strange for all doctors orjust GPs, or had he missed the point of the film altogether?"