The Human Zoo - Ms Perth Foodie




Sara swoons out of her kitchen with deconstructed nachos served on square plates. Her uncouth barbarian of a friend opens his classless hole, “aw chips ‘n dip, you beauttttty”. 

Sara takes a moment to compose herself. “The protein was prepared via sous-vide and the kale garnish has been gently tossed with pink Himalayan rock salt OK?” In reality, the only thing that Sara is tossing is the gaping salad of pretentious cookery.

Sara spends the remainder of the meal talking up the complex flavours she has smoked into her home made corn chips. Sara is careful to not let the conversation veer too far from her culinary expertise. 

After all, you are at her house, eating her sweat and tears, show some god damn respect for this jus-serving MKR cunt. An awkward silence comes over the table as Sara retrieves dessert: sugar free poached pear, the culinary equivalent of fucking exercise. "Bon appetite". Ugh...

In between her constant trips to farmer’s markets and viciously dissing every meal on TV cookery shows, Sara has little time for romance.

Despite the odds, she is charmed by a bearded cheese-dick who she spotted berating a Leederville barista for “tainting” his coffee with a “slight char on the soy”. They bonded over stories of correct use of cream chargers and how Perth bogan’s couldn’t confit their way out of a greasy take away bag. 

The urban-spooners head to a top restaurant, one of the few Perth establishments that are worthy of their culinary brilliance. Sir topknot has greased his cunt-antenna up and Sara’s resting bitch face is ready to eye-scowl the wait staff. 

Their first bottle of wine comes out and the pair swill it around in their mouths like a couple of stuck up washing machines. “No, no, no, no, I had good Tempranillo on the coast of San Sebastian, this is clearly corked, no”. 

The trained waiter whiffs the bottle, and politely disagrees. Sara’s face suddenly resembles something that eats it own young, “I think I know what I am talking about, bring us another bottle, very unprofessional”.

“I can't believe these Moreton bay bugs aren’t twice cooked”, the top knotted masterchef agrees, “totes babe, really not Fat Duck standard”. In fact, the furthest either has come to Fat Duck is when a Tip Top truck rolled over next to Lake Monger at the annual dickhead BBQ. 

However, one must never let knowledge get in the way of super-critical culinary cuntery. Sara has only managed to crack a smile when a waiter tripped on King man-buns foot, and is quick to whip out her iPhone at the end of their meal. The final course for a dickhead foodie is always a hot serving on UrbanSpoon (or Zomato, but I wont call it that).

“Food was OK, wait staff were rude (never argue with the customer when you serve CORKED WINE!) and the plating up was amateur at best”. With the click of a button she shits on the bold degustation and contributes to the ever-growing class of dumb cunt diners who compare restaurant service to the shit on toast they cook up in the kitchen of delusional grandeur.

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The Human Zoo - Mr Perth Now

 

Perth Now forums are barren wastelands of caps locked fury that are polluted by the willful ignorance of fuddy-duddied fuckwits. 

Australian media is facing a brave new world of misinformation, and it needs a hero equally as misinformed: Mal is that hero and he proudly wears his crusty mustard jocks on the outside. 

Mal fancies himself a straight shootin’, tough as nails realist that is blessed with the infallible genius of the revered baby boomer. In reality, he is an outdated pack of cheese that has grown the various moulds of phobic and uncompassionate beliefs.

No punishment is severe enough, no change is necessary enough and no member of Gen Y has any bloody sense. He paid a modest $50K for his dwelling in ‘83 but rubs it’s current market value in your face like a dog owner rubbing it’s pet’s snout in a puddle of fiscal irresponsibility. Oh, and if he disagrees with the articles subject matter it's a fucking slow news day ayyy. 

Luckily for the disenfranchised, Mal is a self professed PhD-cunt in the field of methamphetamine. He cleans the fish finger crumbs off his Laz-e-Boy, whips out his Dell laptop and logs on to his beloved Perth Now. 
According to the quasi-journalistic clickbait of Newscorp, Perth is facing an ice epidemic of ad-revenue raising proportions. Mal decides to educate the nation, 

“CRACK is taken over… so many mindless moronic IMBERCILES taking CRACK which is on the brink of indemic SAturation. Deadshit DRUGGIEs, lock em up and throw away the KEY SIMPLE…”. 

Well said.

While he sits back and waits for unpatriotic lefties to challenge him, he remembers fondly his top comment from yester-year where he called for the Bali 9 ringleaders to be shot twice, “just to make sure the DRUGGIE SCUM are dead”.


 Despite never having been wronged by heroin traffickers he copped a fierce retribution-stiffy from his “bloody logical” opinion. Drugs are always wrong, unless of course in the case of Mal shoving dexies down the red cordial stained mouths of his now delinquent children. "Different kind of amphetamine, mate".

While ruthlessly mind-fucking himself to the fantasy of his own brilliance, he also remembers his bold call to introduce mandatory sentencing to any hoon found guilty of being under 25 years old. His own E-Plates are of course a different story, given that he isn’t a leftarded bludger and knows what a real days work feels like.

During a Today Tonight ad break, he stumbles upon an article discussing the proposed footbridge to link East Perth to the new stadium. The bridge is not only wavy and homosexual, but the pure audacity of the Government to spend millions of dollars on infrastructure has Mal foaming like the 7th can of domestic beer he has cracked this evening. 


“Arty FARTY BULLSHIT, $54M! yous are got to be kidding me! TAXPAYERS getting rip offed again... surprise surprise... we don't even need a bloody bridge, and now it's gonna fucking collapse cos yous buitl it in CHINA using 457s”. 

He argues with “Tony of Subiaco” before laying his famous death blow, “mate try moving out of your PARENTS house and get a bloody clue, son”.

Mal retires to bed, tomorrow he will tackle Islam, refugees and the road works near his local bottle shop. The job of an obnoxious poor cunt is never done.

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A Guide to Perthnow Commenters



1. Terry Tough Cunt

Terry is the toughest motherfucker behind a keyboard and pops up on articles regarding violent crime. That home invading crackhead better not choose Terry's dwelling next, or he will batter them so badly his wife will to ask to speak to the manager of the fish and chip shop.

He delights in dreaming up twisted vengeance methods, "lets just say I'd hook his cock  up to me Hills Hoist, attach me car battery and play ring around the raw-dicksie".

No penalty is ever tough enough for him either. Be it a burglary, rape or kicking a Quokka, the penalty is as stated above with that Hills Hoist weirdness.

2. The Expert 

No matter what subject, the expert reckons a bunch of highly specific shit about it. Generally, they pop up in regards to animal behaviour, responses to natural disasters and Government policy.

If you are lucky, the expert has at least plagiarised the first Google search they've come across, if you are unlucky then that reckoning has spewed directly out of their ever-open valve of shit.  Typically, they have achieved less in life than the sperm that thought it fertilised a piece of corn inside a pornstar's arse.

3. Mr Anti-Halal 

If he was a super hero, his power would be relating ANYTHING to "Islams", Halal certification and burqas. He also believes he has a PhD in Islam and loves spreading his thesis to anyone who will listen. Like seeing a pig's head at a Reclaim Australia rally, you aren't surprised but you do shake your head in a sort of disbelief.

Sometime you are genuinely impressed at the obscurity of the connection. "Oi SO them cunts can take me Commy for speeedin ubt Islams can wear towells on there HEADS in the bank ha ha h pissweak countries gon o the dogs"

4. Mrs Someone Think About the Children 

If offence culture had a face, it would be a suburban mum trying to start up a petition in a comment section to ban the sexualisation of toddler shoes with slightly raised heels on them.

You can pick this commenter out a mile away as she normally has better spelling from her mummy blogging (not always though). More importantly, she is the one that usually makes you want to punch a hole through your screen the most.

5. The FIFO

Everything is fuck all mate. From your working conditions to the current weather, this cunt has had it harder than nailing a head shot on Jaws in Goldeneye 64. Problem is every he says is as reliable as piss test after the 2006 Eagles premiership win.

For someone so battle-weathered he is mighty sensitive and will instantly call you jealous of his repossessed assets and 2 week coward punching benders. Oh, and don't mention 457, the combination that unlocks No.6 on our list.

6. The Caps Lock Crusader 

Mr Caps Lock can come in many forms. However, the best Caps Lock Crusaders know that the unadulterated caps lockery is essential to hammer home the ever important point you are trying to make.

"oi Jetstar i BOOKED my ticket 2 WEEKS ago and yous still haven't sent out an itinerary, NOT HAPPY!!!!"

Note how you wouldn't have understood the sentiment unless it was punctuated like a type-writer with tourettes?

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