ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
After squinting his way through Ronan Keating’s performance and scanning a losing ticket half a dozen times, James Bannister is on the move.
His boys have called it and made the decision to get into town before the crowds begin to leave Flemington. They were walking quickly and James, a 34-year-old Betoota native who’s currently suffering the indignity of living in Melbourne’s ‘Little Sydney’ district of South Yarra, was struggling to keep up.
“Hurry up mate, what’s wrong, you got a cramp or?” said one of James’ mates, turning around.
James was hobbling.
“Nah mate, these shoes are fucking killing me,” James said.
His mate shrugged.
“Just bush the cunts and we’ll get some more in town. There’s a Big W on Lonsdale or whatever. There’s one in there.”
So James bushed the cunts.
He hobbled over to the nearest bin and slipped them off. The relief was instant. His mate smiled and nodded.
“Come on, you stupid fucking Queenslander,” he said.
“Let’s go.”
James abandoned his $49 Tarocash loafers and lightly jogged, in barefeet, up to is boys.
“Fuck me, I thought you were wearing socks.”
More to come.
