6 February, 2016. 11:23
ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
Confused, scared and riddled with nerves.
Douglas MacIntyre isn’t a seven-year-old boy anymore – watching his parent’s marriage collapse right before his eyes – he’s a 28-year-old successful term deposit specialist watching The SuperBowl with thirty of his closest, but equally loathed work colleagues.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” he said. “I don’t know which side to choose. Do I go with the Falcons? I don’t even know where Atlanta is. Or the Patriots? Fuck man, it’s all too much. It just reminds me of my parent’s divorce.”
It was the last days of British Hong Kong and Doug’s banker father was tasked with ensuring a smooth transition for Macquarie Bank’s interests from the incumbent government to the incoming Chinese one.
Celebrating that smooth transition with a steamy night in Lan Kwai Fong, Douglas Snr and a few other senior executives set out with a gut full of Dom Perignon and half a dozen black Amex cards – looking to cause some trouble.
The trouble came in the form of his personal assistant, Regina, who Mr MacIntyre ended up chonging long into the night and well into the next morning. It wasn’t long until he had to explain a string of credit card purchases to his wife, which inevitably resulting in Douglas Snr admitting the affair.
“And that was that,” said Douglas Jnr. “Dad came home and said he was moving out. He got one of those wanker Hugh Grant haircuts that were at the time and away he went. Chonging off into the distance. Nobody was safe. I think he might’ve even chonged a few blokes around the Olympics.”
“But I didn’t hate him or anything. Mum had cut him off emotionally and built up a wall. I couldn’t pick a side, I mean, who can in these situations.”
“It’s just like The SuperBowl. Just another excuse to drink. But when I drink, all those shit comes back to the surface. It’s a never ending cycle. I mean, fuck.”
More to come.