The gathering of thoughts was cut short by the door being flung open and the appearance of a middle aged man in dusty boots, tight blue shorts, a tight blue singlet that accentuated his beer gut perfectly and an akubra.

“G’day, I’m Bruce. You fellas alright?” he asked.

“Not really, but for your sake we’ll pretend we are,” Greg mused.

Bruce chuckled. “The outback a bit of shock to the system, huh?”

“I don’t think shock’s the right word,” Colin mumbled. “Hey, does it ever cool down here?” he added.

“Mate, it has cooled down, only gonna be 38. It’s been 43 for the past week,” Bruce grinned.

“I take it we’re not talking Fahrenheit,” Greg sighed.

Bruce chuckled again. “Anyway fellas, the old lady’s got brekkie on the go if you’re interested.”

“Oh man, am I interested,” Drew perked.

“I wouldn’t get any ideas about seconds fatty boom bah…we don’t have enough grub for that,” Bruce scorned.

Ryan had to bite his lip harder than anyone else to avoid cracking up.

It took several minutes for everyone to get themselves organised and for Wayne to find his pants before they headed into the farmhouse for breakfast.

A small tanned woman and about six kids greeted them.

“I brought the yanks in for breakfast,” chirped Bruce.

“Actually, I’m Canadian,” Colin piped up, surprising himself.

“Well, one out of seven ain’t bad,” the woman sighed.

“Now boys, the wife, Beryl, will look after you. I’ve gotta take the kids to the landing strip so they can get to school,” Bruce smiled and motioned for his children to leave the room. The children walked past, ogling the Whose Line men.

Once the room was cleared, they all seated themselves at a large wooden table and Beryl began piling their plates with bacon and eggs. Colin seemed to get more than everyone else, much to Drew’s annoyance.

“So, Beryl ­– this is fantastic by the way – where are we actually?” Wayne asked, shoveling food into his mouth.

“Ammaroo Station…the Territory,” Beryl replied.

“What territory?” Brad asked, confused.

“The Northern Territory,” Beryl sighed, putting her hands on her hips.

Brad still looked confused.

“The top end of Australia, you dimwit,” Greg scorned. “Hey Beryl, how did we get here?” he added.

“Big Bazza brought you on his rig,” Beryl perked.

“Rig?” Ryan said, sounding completely and utterly lost.

“Truck,” Beryl sneered.

“Any idea where we might find Big Bazza now?” Drew queried.

Beryl though for several seconds. “Well, he usually spends a few days in the Alice. You’d probably find him there.”

“Great. How would be get to ‘the Alice’?” Brad mused.

“You’d probably have to hitch. Even then it’ll take at least eight hours to get there,” Beryl said pointedly.

“Eight hours, Jesus. Isn’t there a quicker way?” Drew spat.

“Does it look like there’s a quicker way?” Beryl scowled.

“Do you think your husband might be able to take us?” Colin asked.

Beryl’s face broke into a smile. “Well I’m sure if you asked him he might.”

Colin smiled back warmly. The others looked at each other and wondered what made Colin so special.