ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
An exciting new dinner party game is sweeping our cosmopolitan desert community at the moment and it’s something everybody should try, says the game’s inventor.
Sick and tired of hearing his friends and family discuss the property market, Damien Pooley excused himself from a dinner party he was hosting one night and went into the bedroom to retrieve the device he uses to defend his home.
“I put my telescopic baton down on the table, next to the potato salad,” he said.
“And told everyone that the next person to mention property or real estate or anything like that, they were getting a crisp smack on the forehead with the telescopic baton.”
That’s when Peter, the husband of Damien’s wife, Annie’s, work wife, Sally, laughed and said he was thinking about adding another dilapidated flat in the French Quarter to his investment portfolio.
“He was testing me,” he said.
“So I did what anyone would do in that situation. I picked the baton up off the table. Whipped it out and hit Peter as hard as I could on the head. It was probably a bit hard, to begin with. Anyway, his eyes immediately rolled back into his head. His wife screamed, so did my wife. Then he started to regurgitate his dinner. Rolled off his chair and started carrying on a bit on the floor. The sound of the air escaping from his lungs through his limp vocal cords was a bit rough, though. So everyone’s yelling and crying, Peter is flopping about like a carp on a riverbank and I’m now the villain,”
“I’m sorry, but he broke the rules first.”
And since then, the game has taken off.
On dinner tables all over Betoota, more often than not, there’s a telescopic baton.
As the children of asset-rich people realise their dreams of living somewhere permanently, those who don’t have the luxury of being some cunt’s son are starting to grow tired of the people in their life who think they’ve done it all on their own.
Property and inheritance is often the only pinch point in social circles so this removes that variable completely, says Damien.
“Imagine just going to dinner with people and talking about Ricky Ponting or whatever girls talk about,” he said.
“That’s what the baton does. It brings back a sense of civility.”
More to come.
