A local man named Jordan Maher has today opened up about the toughest 24 hours of his life.

Sitting down with The Advocate earlier today, Maher explained what happened on a fateful evening some 13 years ago, and why it’s left him scarred.

The generally well liked Betoota Heights fitter and turner said that a bit of excitement paired with a bottle of Bundaberg’s finest caused immeasurable damage to his pallet and his gag reflex.

“I’m not joking, a whiff of the stuff makes me dry heave,” said Maher following another rinsing at the pub.

“I physically cannot do it, and if I do I just end up spewing,” he sighed.

“Which is why it’s frustrating when everyone gives me shit for having a flaccid penis because I won’t have a rum and coke.”

His comments come off the back of his mates attempting to peer pressure him into drinking a couple of rumbos during a mildly pissy session at the Betoota Heights Hotel.

Famous for its rum fuelled violence, his mates couldn’t believe Maher wouldn’t have at least one in honour of the town’s official UFC viewing venue.

“I just can’t,” sighed Maher, visibly beaten down by his inability to match his mates toxic levels of masculinity on this occasion.

“I fucking spewed all over myself,” he sighed, revealing the formative night in his teenage years.

“Mum came to pick me up from a mate’s house early the next day, and no one had woken up.”

“I woke up like I’d just down one of those spin around challenges and someone had punched me in the side of the head.”

“She’s (mum) yelling at me, I’m trying to piece together what’s happened, and I just vomitted all over myself again.”

“Like a little toddler’s whose had a big feed of milk and been shaken up by his silly uncle.”

“And then the pain went on for hours and hours,” he said of the alcohol poisoning.

“So I don’t touch the sugarcane champagne, because I can’t.”


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