CLANCY OVERELL | Editor | CONTACT
As the worksites begin to thin out around the country, the only men left standing are the blokes who give a shit.
That’s according to the builders anyway, as they attempt to meet to the pre-Christmas deadlines they have promised on these wildly inconsistent December jobs.
With millions of luxury work vehicles loaded with boogie boards and BMX bikes, the family men are peeling off a week early with their families to soak up as much sun and surf as they can – after nearly two weeks of their kids causing shit at home because the teachers insist on having 20 weeks of holidays a year.
One local builder, Casey Griselda (55) has been left with just two and a half men standing.
He’s got the Serbian gyprocker who want to assassinate Peter Dutton over the 6 bureaucratic years it has taken him to unsuccessfully bring his family out here from the motherland.
He’s got the recently divorced piss wreck chippy, who they all reckon has been sleeping in his ute.
And he’s got that recovering juvenile delinquent he reluctantly took on as an apprentice after being bailed up by his absolute milf of a mother in a Dan Murphy’s car park the same day he got kicked out of school for fucking around with a can of aerosol deodorant and a jet lighter.
With the workrate slowing down, the deadlines look like they won’t be that likely.
Instead he tells his men to start trying to tidy the place up well enough to make the owners think they are on the home stretch if they happen to drive past to show family members on Christmas day.
After a scorching hot morning of laying turf and vacuuming, Casey decides there’s not much else to do but reward these men for turning up.
“Righto” he shouts.
“In the truck”
Within minutes, they’re pulling into the sprawling car park of the Betoota Flight Path District Tavern, where they will drink until they are either cut off from the bar or they cut themselves off from the bar.
The apprentice, Cameron (18), has never seen this many schooners on the table at the one time.
With his boss slipping him a 20 and encouraging him to form a toxic lifelong relationship with pokie machines, Cameron is now realising why all he can see is a flash of hi-vis every time he drives past this joint with his mum. Going to the pub is awesome!
At time of press, the young fella was being ordered to blow into the boss’s drink driving interlock mechanism after betting his pokie winnings that he can hold his piss better than Blagoy the miserable old sook.