ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
A hard-working Betoota Heights father received a call this afternoon from his son’s teacher a Green Road State School in Betoota Heights and it wasn’t about his behaviour – this time.
With a few hours to kill between knocking off at 3pm and being home for dinner around 7pm, 43-year-old carpenter Brett Glenn was sitting in the public bar of the Orangutan & Caterpillar Hotel down at the Betoota Heights shops with his apprentice and a couple other mates in the same company.
They were sharing a few laughs, he says, and a few of their own insights about the weekend of footy ahead.
“Just as I was telling this yarn about my cousin Tom meeting Paul Kent and thinking he was a washed-up clown with white dog shit between his ears where his brain should be, I get a call from my son’s teacher,” he told The Advocate a few minutes ago in the smoking pokies of the hotel.
“She goes, ‘You can’t be giving Brett Junior a chip sandwich and a poppa for lunch. He needs to have some leftie rubbish like seaded bread and a mandarin or something’, it’s the same fucken thing. I had chip sandwiches when I was a kid and I turned out fine. I have a three houses and a fucken boat,”
“What does this teacher have? A HECS debt and seven pairs of $49 pumps from Peter Sheppard? Teachers these days. Back in my day, teachers were teachers. They didn’t take any gruff from anyone. Especially students. I remember my Dad used to get the cane from his. I’m from the generation that would’ve put a crisp hook on the chin of any teacher that tried that shit, so they made it illegal.”
When our reporter tried to steer the conversation back to the chip sandwich, Brett laughed.
“Oh right,” he said.
“Mate, these teachers these days are so woke. It’s not like I’m against all that shit, I just don’t want to engage in it. I’m a fucken chippy in the Simpson Desert, why the fuck are you asking me about these things? Go ask some bonghead in West End,”
“The chip sandwiches, this is where it starts.”
More to come.