CLANCY OVERELL | Editor | CONTACT
Even though it’s only fairly early on this night, a third schooner is looking like a good idea, it has been confirmed.
While nipping into his local to meet a few of his mates who share the same marital status and flakey attitude towards work, 29-year-old James Ropedale says he reckons this third schooey is going to go down a treat – and considering that none of the boys have any little ones to get home to, maybe even a fourth could be a goer.
“It’s been a particularly easy decision to make” says James.
“I’m walking distance from home and the missus has got yoga or some shit til late”
With the golden rays of afternoon sun seeping through the glass frontage near the TVs, and now glistening off the Betoota Bitter tap in the front bar, James says his sting is starting to turn into a buzz.
“It’d have to be a pretty bloody important phone call to drag me out of this place right now” he says, notably more chirpy than he was a couple hours ago during a twenty person office morning meeting.
“Pour me another fucking jar” he cheekishly barks to the long-haired 18-year-old bloke behind the bar.
“Are you boys alright? for anothery?” he says at his mates.
They all reply with firm yeses. One punter, close mate Brett, even says ‘fuck yes’.
“Give us a couple jugs then young fella” he spits back at the barman.
Overcome with euphoria about how good it is to drink cold beer on a lovely afternoon, James asks if the kitchen is open tonight.
“Who knows” he says to the boys.
“Might give it a bit of a nudge tonight.”
