Bondi Res­cue

The Weekend Australian - Review - - Television -

Thurs­day, 7.30pm, National Ge­o­graphic Bondi is my lo­cal beach but I don’t re­call ever see­ing a res­cue in all the years I’ve pad­dled there. (Re­mem­ber the days when you paid the man to spray you with sun­tan oil and pink zinc cream on the nose was the only pro­tec­tion against sun­burn? Not that most of us would have been caught dead wear­ing it.) Started in 2006, this is the se­ries’ sev­enth sea­son and as usual it’s packed with ac­tion. There’s plenty of fod­der: clue­less peo­ple, nearly al­ways tourists who can’t even swim, ig­nore the flags and are caught in a rip; big boofy blokes howl with pain from a blue bot­tle sting; and hys­ter­i­cal par­ents lose sight of a young child. Al­though it’s banned, al­co­hol is al­most as big a prob­lem as stu­pid­ity; po­lice and paramedics are no strangers to this fa­mous beach. Yet day af­ter day the team of pro­fes­sional and trainee life­guards, ever alert to un­fold­ing dan­ger, re­mains calm. Their sense of hu­mour and de­vo­tion to the job are ad­mirable; th­ese bronzed Aussie char­ac­ters de­serve medals. A favourite in many coun­tries, Bondi Res­cue is a real nos­tal­gia trip for ex­pats long­ing for a dose of home. Tonight, things go wrong for poor Jesse when a rope gets caught in his jet ski.

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