The Whose Line men wandered straight into the first pub they came across and were greeted by loud applause.

“They can’t possibly know who were are!” Drew gasped.

“They obviously do,” Ryan shrugged.

They all got comfortable on stools at the bar and were subsequently given a free beer each.

“I don’t think anyone can thank you enough for what you did last night,” the barman groveled.

“Yeah…ah…what did we do last night?” Colin asked.

“Jeez, talk about modesty,” the barman chuckled, “if you hadn’t flown in, old Don mightn’t have made it.”

“Flown in?” Ryan gasped, drinking his beer and then Chip’s.

“Well, that is what flying doctors do,” the barman laughed.

“Flying doctors,” Greg breathed.

“You fellas are so modest,” the barman mused and went to serve another customer.

“Ok, now I’m seriously worried,” Drew mumbled.

“You’re worried, I’ve flown twice and not even know about it,” Ryan spat.

“And the down side to that is?” Colin asked.

“Good point,” Ryan replied.

“Excuse me, can I shake your hand?” asked an elderly gentleman who appeared at Greg’s side.

“If you want,” Greg shrugged and shook the old man’s hand.

“If you hadn’t given poor Don heart massage, Doc, it would have been a sad day today. But we’re all very grateful to you and your team. Even though you are yanks,” the old man gushed.

“Heart massage…team,” Greg swallowed, his voice cracking.

The old man switched his attention to Wayne.

“I always said you people were talented. And when you did that tracheotomy…” the old man’s voice trailed off.

“What do you mean, you people?” Wayne asked.

“Black fellas,” the old man replied, smiling kindly.

Wayne wasn’t sure whether to be offended, laugh or cry. He settled on just giving the man a warm smile and hoping he’d go away. He did go away, and two young women approached the bar, both blushing profusely.

“Hi Doctor Stiles,” one of the girls smiled, making her way over to Ryan.

Ryan cleared his throat. “Hi.”

“I wanted to thank you personally. We don’t often get proper gynaecologists up here.”

Ryan looked mortified and suddenly the bottom of his glass seemed very interesting.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

The other six men all looked in Ryan’s direction, gobsmacked.

“If I was a proctologist I’ll scream,” Drew muttered.

The other girl looked timidly at Colin. “I owe you one for delivering my baby.”

Colin could think of nothing to say, so he just smiled weakly.

“I named him after you…Colin.” She sighed and then to everyone’s surprise planted a kiss right on Colin’s lips.

Colin looked back, stunned. “You’re not Felicia are you?” he managed to blurt out.

“No, I’m Sharon,” the girl replied.

“Oh…” Colin breathed, smiled again and turned back to his beer.

Something suddenly occurred to Brad. “Hey is there an airport around here somewhere?” he asked the barman.

“We’ve got a landing strip, bout 2 clicks out of town,” the barman replied.

“Great. Come on guys, let’s get out of here,” Brad announced.

The seven men were soon walking along a barely there dirt track surrounded by nothingness.

“This is hopeless, we can’t see anything,” Chip whined.

“There’s got to be a sign or something,” Brad said pointedly.

“Australia doesn’t have wolves or coyotes does it?” Wayne asked.

“They have eight of the world’s most poisonous snakes,” Ryan perked.

“How would you know?” Colin inquired.

“I watch the Crocodile Hunter,” Ryan shrugged.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t catch a cab,” Drew huffed.

“Drew, you find a cab out here and we’ll catch it,” Greg sarced.

“Bite me,” Drew scowled.

There was a brief silence before Colin piped up.

“I know for a fact they have gully bulls right here in this part of the outback.”

“Gully bulls? Are they, like, deadly?” Wayne gulped.

“Can be. Bit stupid, too,” Colin mused.

“We’re not even in a gully,” Ryan scorned.

“So they roam,” Greg shrugged.

“Hey look, a light,” Brad beamed pointing to a small light in a field.

“Finally. Let’s go,” Drew sighed and began walking in the direction of the light.

“Wait, I want to hear more about the gully bulls,” Wayne announced.

“Yeah Col, tell us more,” Ryan chirped.

“Well you’re the gully bulls…gullible…gullibles…get it,” Colin giggled. Everyone let out a groan and began following Drew.

They soon saw the light was part of a small, lone aircraft hanger. Brad took the liberty of knocking on the rusty metal door. The door flung open and a man appeared looking very pissed off.

“Where the hell have you lot been?! We were supposed to have left yesterday! I’ve been copping shit from the guys back in the city. I’ve been forced to lie through my teeth for you lot. I knew we shouldn’t have let the yanks take over, I knew it!”

“Are you finished?” Greg asked, crossing his arms.

“Barely,” snapped the man.

“This might sound kinda weird…but who are you?” Wayne queried.

“Your pilot…unfortunately, as you seem to have forgotten already,” the man hissed.

“Where did you pick us up from?” Colin chimed in.

“Adelaide. How can you forgot? We were in a hurry, it was a particularly busy night at the airport too, several planes had come in at once. It was the most crowded I’d seen it in years. You guys had to yell who you were to make people move and get through…” the pilot babbled.

They guys looked at each other. They all had the same thought. They must have yelled out they were doctors so they could get to the front of the queue and someone must have taken them seriously.

“So when can we fly back to Adelaide?” Drew asked.

“Now, if you want,” the pilot replied.

“Do we have to,” Ryan peeped.

“You’re a gynaecologist, man, hold it together,” Brad chirped, squeezing Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan gave him daggers.

They piled into the small aircraft and were soon shooting through the night sky. The pilot promised it was only a half-hour trip but that still didn’t stop Ryan from spending the whole time gripping his seat and sweating like a fat guy in a sauna.