ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact

“Boys, don’t know how much longer I can do this,” he joked.

Deep in his core, Mark Randle knew he could do whatever ‘this’ is for as long as it took to vanquish the Pangolin’s Kiss – he just said that for a laugh.

And the boys did laugh.

“Cheers, guys!” he said, tapping his tumbler of Betoota Bitter against the front camera of his iPhone.

The 28-year-old is catching up with his other 28-year-old mates this Friday afternoon in our cosmopolitan desert republic the only way he can, via popular quarantine app, House Party.

Each night around six, he gets home from his home office, gets a cold tin out of the vegetable crisper and sits back on the couch to play House Party.

“It took me a while to get over how bad I look on camera,” he said.

“But we got passed it,” he laughed.

Mark spoke briefly to The Advocate over the back fence he shares with our reporter.

“We all sit around and have a beer, play some trivia, do some drawing and shoot the shit,”

“But it’s just not the same, you know?”

Our reporter did know because he does the same with his friends.

“Oh well, it’s better than being fucking dead I guess?”

“Or being stuck on one of those death cruises? Fuck that, mate. I’d rather be running supplies across the North Atlantic during the winter of 1942!”

More to come.


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