ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
A man with a brain that’s blowing more blue smoke than a third-hand whipper snipper is thankful this afternoon for the helpful signs on our roads that coach him into being one of life’s great pests.
Alan Gooch, a retired 82-year-old vagabond-by-choice, was headed to Windorah today to spend the night and tomorrow complaining about everything from the local water hardness to the coldness of the beer.
But before he got there, he had something else to complain about.
“Bastards breaking the speed limit, going around me like they’re zooming down Conrod Straight! Look at my top lip! That cut is from someone throwing a CD at me! As they overtook us! Two men in a [homophobic slur redacted by legal] little ute!” said Gooch to our reporter moments ago.
There was a large, albeit neat, slice in Alan’s top lip.
Gooch and his travel companion and alleged wife, Ticky, attended the Western Star Hotel this afternoon, where they consumed only water and sent back the $15 steak special twice—half-eaten—because the half they hadn’t eaten was overcooked.
“It hurts very much, but I’m often reminded by the signs that I need to speed up. Often, I’m taking in the scenery, and when I let my eyes wander back to the road, I see I’m straddling the white line doing 70 in a 110. That’s Australia for you! Majestic. We’re not in any rush, so we don’t mind,” he continued.
“But there are so many hoons out there. Impatient young people in their souped-up Land Cockers!”
One of the so-called impatient people this afternoon was this masthead’s cadet, Wendell Hussey, who joined our reporter on a trip out to Windorah today.
As we were stuck behind Alan and Ticky for 45 minutes, Wendell’s famous patience came to an end.
“Look!” he said as we approached an overtaking lane.
“These fucking CUNTS are speeding up! Quick! Get around them, I need to throw something at them!”
Wendell rummaged around in the centre console of our reporter’s 2012 Proton Jumbuck (with overdrive, spoiler, and aftermarket extractors) and chose to throw a CD at Alan as they sped past.
“Take that!” Wendell said as he frisbee’d The Very Best of Van Morrison out the window. The CD struck Alan in the philtrum—the space between the nose and top lip—so much so that they had to pull over.
Our reporter decided it was best for Wendell and them to get a 10-pack of Hard Solos and head back to Betoota.
More to come.
