The Human Zoo - Ms Groovin' the Moo

Samanfa's festival attire falls somewhere between “burning man” and “burning discharge”. Her hundred dollar baby braids are accompanied by a completely see-through dress which shows off her lacey underwear that appear to be having a fun day out cannoying in her crevice.
After Snapchatting every hour of her “road trip” to Bunbury the squad arrives at the gates. It is imperative that Samanfa “literally” gets a group photo with “these #10s” to show everyone on Instagram that today is “#goalsaf”. Needless to say, the photo is #lit fam.
She uploads the photo to the Gram and unleashes a weapon of yass-destruction:
While cultivating her vibe, Samanfa spots her king sprinting through the crowd. A Bunbury local that puts the “dropped on the head at birth” in dropkick. The pied piper of poorcunts that has managed to wrangle a crew of cretins to charge the fence and boot any security guard's skull that gets in the way of meeting a potential #kween.
Now, you may consider someone who jumps a fence to a 16+ concert to be a bit of a loser, but don’t judge a book by its cover, because this particular loser is peng af apparently. Samanfa manages to find her king after he hobbles out of a portable toilet with the uncomfortable expression of a man who just shoved a pill up his kwan.
He eyes off Samanfa, “sup bae?” Oh me gee, he is wearing a homemade singlet. Samanfa blushes in lust, “nice rig bae". He simply turns around and double thumb points at his back. It’s his Snapchat details with “SEND NUDES” written on the bottom.
Despite being a cracking example for the need for 24 year retrospective abortions, she brings him over to her #squad. Without the need for any prompting, he shows the group the back of his singlet.
They are LITERALLY DYING, someone had better call the Colonel as there is a new zinger master in town.

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The Human Zoo - Mr "I Love Perth"

Robbo is aggressively pro-Perth and he wouldn’t want to live anywhere else in the world. Partly because he hasn’t really been anywhere else in the world, but mostly because the shitty weathered "queer-o-toriums of Melbourne and Sydney can suck his Ballajura born balls.

While appreciating the taste and value of his Perth coffee, Robbo spots the holy grail of indulgent journalism: “Sorry Sydney, this is Australia's best city”. Another article desperately comparing Perth to the East Coast, much in the same way an insecure insta-model measures her self-worth against the likes of her rivals latest #inspo clit shot.

The article has Robbo blue-balling from the sloshy surge of Perth patriotism. He spots a comment from a traitor claiming that Perth can't match the variety and price of grub in Sydney. Robbo furiously pounds his keyboard to deliver a love-it-or-leave-it load all over the forum.

“ fuk back off to Sydney then mate. had the shitttttttest steak sanga in SHITNEY!! so ye spare us lol….evrr heard of ROCKPOOL? wrld clas joint roight at Perth’s doorstep lol… swivel on that food kulture”.

After a robust argument, Robbo decides it’s time to catch multiple buses to where he left his car last night. 50 minutes into the trip he turns to a fellow commuter, “our buses fly ay, 70kph no worries, ever see a tram do that? Ha, those things run on fruity scarfs mate”. The man stops huffing glue and shoots Robbo an accepting look, “oath, mate, oath”.

After retrieving his car, Robbo barrels into a pub and banter-rapes the barkeep, “you would probably be locked out if this was Shitney ay mate ha ha”. He then turns to another punter and tugs on his Jet Pilots, “beers in ya boardies lad, only in Perth, it'd be pissing down in Melbourne, better wear ya chinos ha ha".

He orders a pint of Perth excellence: Creatures Pale. “$12.30 please mate”. The price leaves Robbo more cut than a bag of Perth coke. Nevertheless, he cries on the inside and puts on a brave front, “yehnah orright, fair cop, better than paying $8 for that poofter-piss Melbourne Bitter ay”.

Against the odds, Robbo finds yet another unflattering comparison to make against a city he has only been to once. The punter next to him rolls his eyes, "the way you bang on about Melbourne, sounds like your secretly in love ha ha". Robbo shoots the man a stare that would pluck a bush chook bald, "i'll fucking glass you mate".

The sun always shines on Perth but you’ll never get that golden West Oz glow if you constantly live in the shadows of Melbourne and Sydney.

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The Human Zoo - Ms Valentine's Day

Valentine’s Day used to represent the Hall-water-Mark of consumerism. A day when the wave of pointless spending crashed on the shore of forced sentiment and girls got some flowers and guys got their dicks gobbled like the cookie monster at morning tea.

That fuckery was bad enough, but now Valentine’s Day is a social media decathlon of rubbing your receipt-backed love in other bitches faces #stickthatinyourunlovedface. If love is a competition then Chrissy plans to win and be adorned in more gold than Cuntsain Bolt.

The first event is breakfast in bed. Dan had better get up 40 minutes early and whip up an Instagrammable acai bowl with a fresh smoothie if he wants his little dick raised like evidence at a Church Royal Commission. She posts at 6:45am:

“O.M.G YASSSS breakfast in bed, feeling so spoiled by my love #love#valentinesday #lucky #jelly#notalone #happy #sheisloved #inlove #bae”.

Chrissy forms an early lead. The next event is her mention in The West Australian's Book of Love.

Oh shit, Dan has cheaped out and only expressed his love in 2 lines! She has 13k followers on Instagram, she deserves 3 lines. On a scale 1 to Tom Cruise jumping on the couch like a fucking psycho, 2 lines is a god damned 0.

Chrissy cries in the office toilet until a workmate comes in and tells her there is a delivery for her. Boom, she has burst into the 3rd event swinging: her bouquet, chocolate and teddy bear package is huge. She posts:

“The day just keeps getting better  Feeling the love! #lindt #roses#loveisintheair #cute #helovesme #lovewins #followme #sizematters

Size does matter. In fact, it’s not representative of the love towards her, rather the size of the gaping hole of insecurity she feels in her relationship. Nevermind that, she is winning. Over 100 likes so far. Yassss.

Crissy is feeling good coming into the final event: Valentine’s Day dinner. Poor old Dan really destroyed his credit card and arranged dinner at Nobu after taking Chrissy to their Crown Tower’s hotel room complete with a bed covered in roses and a Tiffany’s box. “Uh will you like marry me babe?”

That shit is so cliche a James Blunt concert might break out. After obsessively checking out all her rivals posts she lands the deathblow of love:

“You know you have found the one when he treats you to Crown Towers, Nobu and Tiffanys! LOVE IS IN THE AIR. I SAID YES! 

Despite Dan spending 1000’s, she somehow makes “being in love” look as appealing as getting waterboarded to the sounds of Waleed’s monologues.

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