Mr I Hate Perth

The Human Zoo - Mr I Hate Perth

On a sunny Sunday morning, Tom sits emotionless at a cafe on Rockeby Road. He turns to his girlfriend and sighs, “burnt the coffee, bloody burnt the coffee again”. She feigns a smile while looking through STM at all the social events that Tom refuses to attend, “no point, would never get a taxi back home babe”. She used to be an effervescent can of ice cold sprite, but Tom’s constant Perth hating has left her devoid of the carbonation of life, she now swishes around like the dregs of a Maccas sprite that has been passed around a car chop by a bunch of stoned bogans.

Tom storms back to his car, still fuming that he had to pay $7.80 for a few hours parking. He drives through the streets of Subiaco and shoots daggers at a number of closed signs, “fucking typical, nothings open, welcome to the wild west babe, backwater shit hole”. Tom spots a green light that just turned orange and gets right up the arse of the driver in front, “fucking come on”. Alas, the driver stops as the light turns red. “Useless fucking Perth drivers, seriously, if you don’t have the confidence to drive, then just fuck off”. Tom launches into an animated rant about how every single driver in Perth (save for himself) can’t drive for shit. “WA, the fucking wait awhile state, load of bullshit”.

Tom has a real knack of turning a pleasant little Sunday morning coffee into an experience that would make being a Chux cloth at a bukake party seem pleasant. Later in the day, Tom attends a birthday bash at The Queens in Mount Lawley. He sits at an outside table in a state of obvious distress, “paid $11 for a pint and I can't even have a smoke with it, seriously, fuck Perth”. Tom continues to be a barrel of laughs while boring the table with basic, every-cunt, Contiki travel stories. Thanks Tom, for an impressively unoriginal critique of Perth as compared to the norms of Western Europe, we didn’t know you were a tub of yoghurt, because you are as cultured as all fuck.

Tom appears to get angered by the sun setting, “the sun is setting now, because idiots think their curtains will fade quicker, fuck Perth hey, bunch of inbred bogans”. Tom almost cracks a smile before noticing his mate trying to chat up some girls, “don’t bother, Perth girls are fucked, they just want some cashed up FIFO, mate”. Tom finishes cramming down his “sub par” steak sandwich and begrudgingly agrees to head into Northbridge for a cocktail at the Mechanics Institute. The group take a stroll and walk past the great Perth Cactus. “This is what Perth calls art? Fucking Golden State my kwon”.

On their way to get a cocktail, Tom describes how Perth is trying to rip off the small bar scene in Melbourne. “Perth is just so try-hard, desperately wants to be like Melbourne ay”. Oh, and Tom would know, he was instrumental in the emergence of the Melbourne small bar scene in all of his 3 weekend trips to Richmond to watch the Eagles. Clown.

Some can't see the forest for the trees, so instead they wildly swing the axe of negativity in an attempt to bring everything down, because ultimately, you either love what our cultural seeds have sown, or you’d rather see it turned into tissue paper so you can dry your pessimistic eyes.

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