Mr FIFO Foodie

The Human Zoo - Mr FIFO Foodie

The mining boom exploded on Perth like a high-vis bomb and sent neck-tattooed shock waves through the restaurant scene. For decades Kev was an culinary-Eskimo, only ever dining on frozen food. Now, he is cashed up and has no need to get steggled every night. When he dusts the red dirt off his coins, they look as shiny as yours, so bring the man a menu, cunt.

Kev rolls a a dart while perusing fancy menus at the Karratha airport. He is planning to take his missus out for a “kuta feed” on his return to civilization. Kev’s missus is a skanky skimpy that perpetually looks like she just sucked off a lemon flavoured cigarette in a back alley. Just the way Kev likes it. He shoots a splooge of spit from between his front teeth while making his decision: Amuse in East Perth for a “dego”.

Later in the week, Kev is preparing for his degustation by priming his palate with a 4 pack of Jack & Coke and is dressed magnificently: black Billabong button up shirt, pin-striped suit pants, Volcom belt and a pair of leather shoes that are so white they make Kevin Rudd look like a reggae singer. He spikes his hair and then rolls his sleeves up to reveal his LATEESHA forearm tatt. He walks down the Kelmscott catwalk flashing all the glamour of the Ascot races general admission toilet.

At Amuse, Kev is asked if he would like wine pairing, “nah mate, fuck that, yas give us fuck all each time, nah two bottles of ya best Mer-lowwww ay”. The first course arrives at their table and Kev indiscreetly leans towards his pretty woman and scoffs, “farking small ay”. A further 4 courses come out and each time Kev is left dissatisfied with the size of his portions. “What a fucking rip, ay, to think, we only paid $20 for that Wah-gooo in Bali the other week ay”.

By dessert, Kev is fully toasted and grabs a waiter by the arm, “look, we paid a shitload and I’m still starvin’ marvin, reckon yas could do us a steak to go?” A move that truly glistens with all the class of a neon sign outside of a Canning Highway massage parlour. His request is denied, and Lateesha retaliates the only way a Birds Eye Fish Finger-cunt can, by posting a scathing review on Urbanspoon and following it up with poorly worded Facebook rant.

Kev re-buckles his belt and taps his missus on the arse, “let’s go Teesh, tomorrow we’ll go to Rockpool, get a decent sized feed, fuck this shit for a joke, ay”

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