ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact

The owner of a half-fucked Betoota Heights display home – and a rustic beach shack on the shores of Lake Betoota – let out a sigh last night before brushing his teeth, because his hopes of one day having a Quiet Australian son-in-law have seemingly been dashed.

Mark Hudson’s youngest daughter is really, really keen on French Quarter man, Sam (Sammy) Michaels and he’s fucking pissed off about it, he told our reporter today.

Last night, Kathie Hudson brought Sammy over to her folk’s place for the first time. As she and young Sam drove up the A45 from the city up to the Heights, she explained to him that her father’s interested in politics and minimising his tax.

He enjoys eating meat, even if it’s been processed within an inch of its life, and having the occasional John Player Special when he’s in the shed regripping his golf clubs. Or knocking in his son’s new cricket bat.

Sammy doesn’t like any of those things, especially sports that require any sort of hand-eye coordination and teamwork.

“This was all news to me,” said Mark.

The 68-year-old spoke to our reporter this morning at the checkout at Barbeques Galore in the Mullholland Road Stockland where our reporter works Tuesday through Thursday.

“I really had my hopes up. My eldest married this wet noodle. Real soft-eyed bloke. Nothing in him. Now they have an inside dog that sleeps on the bed with them at night. I’m sorry but fuck that. A fucking pug in the bed with you at night. The poor fucking thing can hardly breathe,”

“My son married a real hard woman. She doesn’t take any shit from anyone. Has her own business, reckons Scott Morrison is a pussy. Even more of a pussy that Malcolm. Fuck me that’s like a pair of bellows of wood stove for me,”

“Now this bloke. He’s about 5’6′ and wears size 6 Cubans [sic] and puts his hair up in a little mohawk to make himself appear a bit taller. Just hold a plastic bag over my head now. Just put me in a fucking ditch. You know what he said to me?

By now, quite a line of customers was forming behind Mr Hudson as he continued his rant.

“He told me that when I die, my estate should be liquidated and given to the government for them to spend on things. Mate. Honest to God, you work your whole life and build something for your family and one day a prick like this just walks into your house and tells you that you’re a bastard. I mean, why should I even bother trying to quit smoking? So I can hang around and grow old with this prick coming over to my place once a month to tell me what I’m doing wrong? Fuck that, Errol. Fuck that right to hell!”

“The worst part is that he’s just quiet. He’s not a Quiet Australian. I bet he hates Australia.”

Our reporter said he was afraid that he couldn’t take Amex.

Mark swore again and presented his Diners Club card. Once again, our reporter was afraid to report he couldn’t take that either.

“I’ve got cash? Will you take cash?! Fuck’s sake!”

As quickly as Mark arrived in our reporter’s life, he was gone.

More to come.


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