Scarlet and David's affair is front page news; Barney and Nicole agree to be 'just friends'; and spurned Kirsty is in no mood to forgive Cleaver's debts.
Cleaver and Missy are off to his father's funeral, but end up at someone else's, where Missy is convinced that life's meaning is to be found in marriage and children - and the most likely candidate is Cleaver.
Although left out of his father's will, Cleaver sets out to recover his estate from swindler Lane Hole, via the courts, the media, any way he can. He enlists the talents of tabloid reporter Polly Nesbitt: promiscuous, unethical and a chaotic force of nature. Cleaver publicly slams Lane Hole on Polly's current affairs show, and launches legal action. But he needs to do some serious bridge-building to get advice on corporate prosecution from Sydney's most boring barrister. More surprises are in store there too.
Wendy wants Cleaver to rescue Fuzz from the clutches of his born-again girlfriend whose insistence on virginity until marriage strikes Wendy as a recipe for disastrously early marriage. Cleaver finds himself with no moral ground on which to argue against experimentation, even with religion, so he joins Fuzz and Tara at church, the worst possible place to be confronted with the consequences of the dark path he trod in pursuit of Lane Hole.
Whilst barrister Cleaver Greene's ex-wife may call him unreliable, his son will call him a mate. To his learned friends at the bar table he is a real wag, and to most judges he is an outrage. To the Tax Office, he is a defendant, to a certain brothel owner a legend, and to his former cocaine dealer a tragic loss.
The clients he loves the most are those that appear to be utterly hopeless. He will do whatever it takes to defend and save life's truly lost souls. The big sinners. Its drug lords. Its cannibals. Its bestialites. And at the same time, he will struggle to save himself, to stop himself falling back into the abyss that has characterised most of his self-destructive adult life thus far.
Despite his own hopelessness, his wit and charm have won him hordes of companions over the years. Most nights of the week, there is no shortage of invitations: dinner with a judge, drug dealers, or his copper mates.
He tends to wake up bruised. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. Usually it's a combination thereof. Occasionally he wonders how his life came to this. Living in a studio above a café in the Cross, without his wife and son, in love with a prostitute, defending hopeless cases.