CLANCY OVERELL | Editor | CONTACT
Right across the continent today, the bright blue sky is saturated in the the light golden apricity, beaming down on the eyelids and exposed wrists of a freezing nation.
This delightful change in weather comes as hundreds of thousands of Australians face economic ruin, and many more live in constant fear of having their dreams crushed by these appalling economic times.
But just like a hot coffee in the morning, or a hearty soup at night – that winter sun has reminded everyone that this cold, dark world is not forever.
Unfortunately, this joyous indication of a changing season also comes with some deep, burdensome desires. Especially given the fact that it is all taking place on a Friday of all days. Even worse, the last Friday of July.
Those who’ve have solemnly sworn to abstain from the grog for the entire duration of this month are today white-knuckling it through an Friday arvo itch like no other.
The 26 days without a cold schooner or a tall glass of plonk already had them a bit fidgety, but these vibrant rays of winter apricity are not making it any easier.
The Dry July fundamentalists must hold on just five and a half more days before they can toast to their own discipline. Otherwise they face the far greater pain of knowing they fell just short in the final throws of this brutal test of self-discipline
While this Winter sun is more welcome than ever, friends and family of the Dry July cohort must acknowledge that this non-religious observance has never been more of a fucken punish than it is right now.
JUST HOLD ON YOU LOT!
