“So, where do we go from here?” Greg asked as the Whose Line men gathered on the train platform in inner city Melbourne. Everyone looked at everyone else, confused.

“What?” Wayne asked, glaring at Colin.

“Huh? Oh, nothing,” Colin mumbled; he hadn’t been able to get the dream out of his mind.

“Oh please, you’ve been looking at me weird all morning,” Wayne huffed.

“You think that’s weird, he started talking about Fifi in his sleep,” Ryan piped up.

“Well, you shouldn’t have even been in my sleeper,” Colin scorned.

“Fellas, fellas, calm down,” Brad soothed.

“You know my question still hasn’t been answered,” Greg sighed, putting his hands on his hips.

“Jeez Greg, use some initiative,” Drew scolded and disappeared into the crowds.

He returned a few moments later with a host of pamphlets. Drew handed everyone a couple of pamphlets each.

“If we look through these it might jog our memories.”

“Hey, a fun park,” Ryan perked.

“No,” Drew scorned.

“Ohh, we could go see an Australian Rules Football game,” Brad offered.

There were mumbles of “that could be interesting” and “those guys are freaky.”

“Oh lord,” Greg suddenly cringed.

Everyone looked at him. “What is it buddy? You remember something?” Drew asked.

“Not really, but I have an idea where my $5000 might have come from,” Greg replied weakly.

“Where?” Chip asked eagerly.

“The biggest thing in Melbourne, the casino. I don’t know why it didn’t click before,” Greg sighed.

“Casino? They have a casino? Let’s go,” Drew enthused.

“Yeah, somehow I don’t think they’ll let us in,” Ryan said coyly.

“Why not? We’re celebrities, man,” Drew smiled.

“We’re inappropriately dressed,” Colin piped up.

“Col’s right,” Greg chimed in.

“Not a problem, I’ll hire us suits,” Drew grinned. “Come on…let’s go gamble.”

Melbourne turned out to be slightly more bearable than where they’d been so far, as Greg had been there before so he had some idea where he was going.

Drew kept his word and hired them all suits. They left the suit shop looking incredibly suspicious. The only thing that stopped them looking like criminals was the horrendous bright coloured shirts they were wearing.

“Man, we look like mobsters or something,” Drew chuckled.

“I feel like we’re about to re-enact Ocean’s Eleven, going to the casino and all,” Colin mused.

“Yeah, but it ain’t Vegas,” Ryan added.

“Carey’s Eleven, I like the sound of that,” Drew nodded.

“No way, Esten’s Eleven,” Chip laughed.

“Well you can’t have Sherwood’s Eleven because it makes it sound like Robin Hood, and you can’t have Brady’s Eleven because everyone will just think Marcia, Marcia, Marcia,” Ryan jeered.

“What about Mochrie’s Eleven?” Colin smiled.

“Dream on, Col,” Ryan mused and slapped Colin on the back.

They walked in silence for a while, the quiet only broken by Brad’s yelps as he was nearly flattened by a tram.

“That’ll learn ya,” Greg mused, smiling at Brad.

“I could have – nearly did – die,” Brad babbled.

“Whatever, dude,” Greg cooed. “So, Mr Carey, it’s too early to go to the casino, gonna book us into a hotel?”

“S’pose. No one else has any money, apart from…YOU,” Drew grumbled.

“Ah uh…no spendies until I find out where it came from,” Greg scorned.

“That excuse is wearing thin,” Drew huffed.

“Look, if it makes things any better we’ll check in somewhere cheaper,” Ryan offered.

Drew shrugged. “Ok.”

With “cheap” being the word, they checked into a shabby backstreet hotel. It looked as though it hadn’t been updated since the 80s, with peach walls, cream carpets and grey furniture. It was sad, but hopefully they’d only have to stay for the night.

The only upside to the 80s monstrosity was that they all got separate rooms, each with a viler colour scheme than the next.

The Whose Line men decided to catch up on lost sleep until later in the day when the casino would be busier.