ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
One of our town’s great alcoholics, Deverell Slacks of the Hooting Chimp Hotel in the Old City, has pursed his lips and shaken his pickled head this afternoon after watching some lucky punter get the soupy Coopers from the bottom of the keg.
“Look, Errol,” said the 52-year-old, who has been on worker’s compensation since 2007 after having one of his bum cheeks pinched off between two shipping containers down at Port Betoota.
“That fat prick over there got the soupy Coopers! Fuck me!”
Our reporter joined Mr Slacks at the Hooting Chimp this afternoon by chance after coming into the pub just to use the ATM.
As it was past lunch, our reporter decided to join Mr Slacks for one or perhaps two drinks. Both Mr Slacks and our reporter looked over at the big man enjoying the opaque pale ale.
“I love the sediment,” he said after leaning forward to spit through his knees onto the carpeted floor.
“My mother was from Adelaide, I think. I’m ethnically South Australian [coughs] I love my Coopers but it’s too cold at the moment to drink it. The [redacted by legal] that runs this pub also thinks it’s a premium beer so he jacks up the price. Like Queensland publicans do with Resch’s. As soon as we let those fucking [redacted by legal] into pubs, it was over.”
When asked by our reporter why they liked it, Mr Slacks’ eyes narrowed, and he took a longer drag from his grey import Double Happiness cigarette.
“It’s the sediment, mate,” he said before coughing so hard his glasses flew off his forehead.
“Fuck me, these Chinese breath mints are going to fucking kill me, they will.”
Some time passed.
“It’s the sediment, mate. I love it. Have you ever been lucky enough to get the sediment? It’s honestly the best. Only bettered by a free pint of [Coopers] Sparking [Ale]. One of those will stop the jitters.”
More to come.
