Remember Ronald Ryan Read Free Page B

it doesn’t catch on. Make a sport of it. Put it in the Olympics.
    WALKER : But will you give up the fruit shop for me, that’s all I want to know?
    They smoke on the tower wall. GUARDS are still boozing up. RYAN grabs guard Lange’s carbine.
    RYAN : [ whispering ironically right in his ear ] I write to you and you don’t write to me. Hello, darling. What’s your little name? Come here often? You’re so cute. Give us a kiss.
    WALKER : I love you.
    LANGE : It’s Lange. Warder Lange. You won’t get away with it.
    RYAN : Fritz Lange. You’re a filmmaker. How’s the gate undo? How’s the gun work? Explain everything to me, Mr Lange, sir.
    LANGE : Put the shell in it—like that, I suppose you do. It’s an M-901. American kind.
    He loads the gun.
    RYAN : Don’t you know how to fire it? How’d you get this job?
    LANGE : Don’t shoot me. I’m very new at this.
    RYAN : I’m not going to shoot you. It’s too hot. Just open the gate. And we’ll get on great. Don’t bugger me around.
    LANGE : Which gate? Which gate you want?
    RYAN : Ground floor women’s lingerie. Aren’t we at Myers, Lange? Hey! Is this your first day here, Fritzy? Now undo the wicket gate. That’s right.
    WALKER : Come on. Come on. Move it. Move it. Move it.
    RYAN : What do you want, a green light? Open it. Open it, will you?!
    LANGE : I’m opening. I’m opening. Give me a chance.
    WALKER : All this is too slow. It’s going too slow.
    RYAN : Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! Put a penny in it.
    WALKER : What do you reckon this is, bush week? Open it!
    LANGE opens the wrong gate, and they are trapped. RYAN and WALKER run down the steps to the grille. LANGE has a tube of beer. Sweating and shaking, RYAN and WALKER run back.
    RYAN : Wrong gate, Deputy Dog. Now do the right one or they’ll find you floating somewhere.
    Sirens ring out.
    WALKER : Fucking Germans. Listen. It’s the Luftwaffe!
    RYAN : [ with the carbine to LANGE ’s ear ] The right gate, mate. Don’t disappoint me. We’re all going to Brazil.
    The gate opens and they are in the carpark with only one car.
    RYAN : Can you hot-wire it, Peter? There’s only one car here, of all the luck. Where’s the warders’ cars?
    Sirens from Pentridge Prison ring and reverberate deafeningly, then for a few seconds fall silent. The subsequent ringing of them is slow and soft, like distant church bells. Everything is not quite normal. Running into traffic and monstrous tram brake noises and Mr Whippy vans and shrieking tyres and shrieking human voices are the escaped felons— RYAN and WALKER . Shots are fired and they swear.
    Cunts are everywhere.
    WALKER : Language, Ron.
    RYAN : Who’s this? Now what?
    They collide with an old SALVATION ARMY BLOKE , his tambourine goes flying with his tattered old Bible.
    SALVATION ARMY BLOKE : I’m an old Salvo. Who are you?
    WALKER : Fuck me dead.
    SALVATION ARMY BLOKE : Christ, you say what you like, don’t you?
    WALKER : Shoot him.
    RYAN : I hardly know him.
    WALKER : He might be of use as a hostage.
    RYAN : I wouldn’t give you two bob for him.
    SALVATION ARMY BLOKE : I’ll pray for both of you.
    RYAN : Not another Bible basher. Get out of the road. Get out of the road.
    WALKER : Shoot him. Just shoot him. I’ll do it. Stand still. Stupid old prick.
    SALVATION ARMY BLOKE : We can’t all be Einstein.
    RYAN : [ clubbing him under the chin ] Goodnight, Sergeant Major.
    The old SALVATION ARMY BLOKE falls in a heap. RYAN picks up the Bible.
    Something to read on the banana boat.
    The truck tyres and tram brakes and general chaos are unbearable. RYAN spots a LADY trying to start up her car. He rushes up to her and holds the rifle at her head as she determinedly strives to get the car moving. Noises are hellish but not so loud we cannot hear RYAN and other characters effortlessly.
    I’ll get it going for you, lady. Give me the