STELLA YARDY | Human Suffering | Contact
Fresh from a 16-hour sleep last night, Jack Cadwallader briefly toyed with the idea of doing something mildly productive with his Saturday – but ultimately elected to go to the pub by himself at lunch.
The somewhat popular 31-year-old treated himself to a lentil burger for lunch down at the Betoota Heights Turf Club before he started in on the cold, bitter schooners.
He spoke exclusively to The Advocate this afternoon in the bistro area of the club, taking the time to explain over and over again that his mates were just minutes away.
“Um yeah,” he said.
“Just a few casual afternoonie schooneroonies. I just broke up with my girlfriend, actually. People just grow apart, you know? Want different things from life. Some people are just AAA batteries in a AA slot. Yeah, uh. So do you want to watch me play the pokies?”
Jack led our reporter through the fake indoor plant partition wall, past the complimentary nut dispenser and up to Pelican Pete.
He asked if The Advocate would like to go halvies with him and we politely accepted.
“Here,” he said, passing his phone over to our reporter.
“Wasn’t she pretty? I mean, she’s not dead. She’s still pretty.”
Our reporter nodded.
After what seemed like half an hour, the tidy hundred was played up to $340 and Jack and our reporter went their different ways.
More to come.
