ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
A Betoota-area man visiting our state’s south-east corner this week was asked if he was a townie, a blockie or a cockie during what he described as his first ever ‘staffies’ at a Gold Coast pub.
The coasties were curious about Mark Dimple’s story, they wondered if he was a simple townsman who grew up throwing rocks at the police and passing buses, a blockie who enjoyed a youth full of adventures like starting grass fires and shooting protected birds like cockatoos and kookaburras or if he was a blue blood who attended an inner-city boarding school.
They invited Mark to stay behind after the pub shut because of his happy-go-lucky demeanour and unthreatening nature.
“I’m a townie,” he told the staff at some horrible pub in the Gold Coast’s hinterland.
“My Dad kicked in shopfront windows for a glazier for a living and Mum did whatever she could to help us make ends meet. Pretty humble background if you ask me,”
“I know a few blockies. We used to go out and ride motorbikes we’d pinched from the cockies. One time the cops almost caught us but we torched them in the state forest before they found us. Burned out almost a hundred thousand acres we did. Fucking send it!”
Satisfied he was one of them, a coastie slapped him on the back and said he was a good bloke despite meeting him a few minutes beforehand.
More to come.
