ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
“You fucking bastard!”
“Fuck!”
Our reporter was awoken by former Prime Ministerial hopeful, Clive Palmer, kicking and shouting at his oven in the kitchen.
“Fuck! I’ve done it again!”
This morning was the twenty-fourth time Clive has burnt a pizza while The Advocate has been staying with the mining magnate during his bi-quarterly golf trip to the coast.
Each day in the hours after noon o’clock, Mr Palmer rises from bed and begins his usual migration to the second-floor kitchen of his Sanctuary Cove mansion.
He unboxes a family-size McCain’s Hawaiian pizza and pops into the oven on a thin baking tray well before it has a chance to preheat.
The often-confused Aries then opts to resume a horizontal position on his Nick Scali in the adjoining living room where he enjoys a jazz cigarette if he’s in the mood.
This afternoon, he was in the mood.
However, our reporter observed that perhaps Clive was a bit over-indulgent on the green
Many hours passed before Clive emerged from the swamp and back to the disgusting realities of the present – only to find his McCain’s was burnt to the shithouse.
Our reporter entered the kitchen to bare witness to Clive’s latest meltdown.
He had a kale green Le Creuset casserole dish above his head, which he threw right through a floor to ceiling glass window and out onto his driveway.
With a great ‘
“Do we have any more Hawaiians, Errol?”
More to come.
