ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
A city worker who says he was blessed genetically with a Colgate smile has spoken exclusively to our reporters about his rough working-class upbringing on our town’s city limits – and all the things that go with it.
Alastair Ross-Williams recalled an afternoon in 2001 where the police brought him home to his parents Betoota Downs Queenslander in a pair of handcuffs.
The then 11-year-old troublemaker was apprehended a short distance from the Mulholland Road overpass where he and some close friends enjoyed a fine afternoon of throwing rocks at cars.
Another lazy Sunday afternoon that year, he was again returned to his parents by members of the constabulary for wrapping a razor scooter around the head of a Birdsville teen.
“That’s the type of shit we used to get up to as a kid,” he laughed.
“I’ve since learned to be better behaved. But yeah. Mate, I grew up out at the Downs. It was pretty rough. We didn’t really have a lot. Like we didn’t have a beach house at Noosa or anything. We had a beach unit at Mooloolaba we were that poor. Fucking Longreach by the beach they used to call it,”
“Speaking of Longreach. A moment of silence for the Lyceum. The cess pit. Hope Lethal was insured. If you’re reading this, thinking of you mate. Anyway, yeah. Oh yeah, my teeth. Yeah, oi but nah. I guess I’m just lucky, hey? Fucking genetic lottery or something.”
But one coworker at the boutique and yet bespoke legal practice he and Ross-Williams work at isn’t convinced.
Speaking anonymously to The Advocate because he doesn’t want to be punched in the back of the brain when Alistair inevitably reads this inside-out colostomy bag of an article, the coworker said there’s more than what meets the eye in regards to young Ali.
“He pronounces his G’s at the end of words,” he said.
“And he knows how to sail. He’s a part of the sailing club. If you know how to sail, you can’t be working class. If your opinion is different, come down here to Finigan & Jones Legal in the French Quarter and fight me in the street,”
“Alistair’s old man is a vet. No, not that type of vet. I mean like an animal doctor. Those blokes make millions. Plus his old girl doesn’t even work. Alistair stole a bunch of animal-grade ketamine from his old man for the Christmas Party last year. I swear to God, that shit really brough the whole night undone for a lot of people. I couldn’t even unlock my phone I was that cooked. People were full on shitting their pants and shit. It was fucking wild, man,”
“Oi but yeah. Alistair 100% had braces. The spoon is lying. His teeth are good enough to be in the mouth of a news reader. Cheers.”
More to come.
