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His housemates heard him slam the front door around 6am this morning after a public holiday out and about.

Steve French, who sleeps in the front room, shot upright in bed at the noise.

“Every time,” he said.

“Whenever Mike comes home and there’s no kick on for him to join, he gets cross and slams the door. Come to think of it, he’s a giant arsehole.”

Just where Mike was last night for so long was a mystery until he emerged moments ago from his upstairs bedroom.

Waving hello and murmuring something at his housemates in the living room, he went to get a schooner of water from the kitchen and came back to join them.

“Good day yesterday?” asked Amy, who told our reporter she often steps on his piss in the middle of the night if he’s used to toilet previously that night.

“Yeah, not too bad,” replied Mike as he opened his laptop lid.

They were watching a rerun of a Big Bash game from a few days ago.

Despite using his laptop and phone, he asked the others if they could change the channel because he already knew the result.

“It’s almost over,” said Amy.

“Whatever,” said Mike.

“I’m heading down to the shops to get a Powerade? Does anybody want anything? Do we need goona wrap?”

Steve yelled from the kitchen that he already bought some toilet paper.

Before he left, he stole one of Amy’s Peter Jacksons for the walk.

More to come.

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