Mr Perth Maori

Temuera is a powerful man. 6 foot 2 and 125kg of pure Rotorua rawness. He sits around his Padbury duplex with his cousins slamming down cans of 6% Woodstocks and arguing about whether Richie McCaw or Sonny Bill is New Zealand's finest rugby player. “Ow! et ah cuz, Sonny Bill is mean, but Ritchie is the man G”. His cousin Jake politely disagrees by belting Temuerain in the face. A flurry of tight rugby shorts, tribal tattoos and Maori-giggling erupts as the two men rumble. After the smash, they sit around their destroyed outdoor setting giggling and sharing the last can of Woodstock, “churrrr boi, thats the second outdoor setting this year!”

Feeling reborn in violent after-birth, the men decide to go and have a munch down at The Saint in Innaloo. Temuera compliments his tight rugby shorts with a black singlet and his pair of Blundstone work boots. He jumps in his filthy Triton and cranks 50 Cent on his drive down to The Saint. In the car park he smokes a poorly rolled and roachless doobie with Jake. Temuera pats his rumbling stomach, “I could hard out eat a horse G”. Jake shoots him a Muss-look, “etah bay, are you Tongan or something G?” Yikes, another minor disagreement, so the pair contemplate a good old fashioned car park scrap but decide to postpone until after their fish feed. “Lets scarpo bro, I’m starving as”.

Jake pulls out his phone and turns to Temuera, “suss out some menus bro, I’m texting this bird, she is tu meke”. Temuera walks off to find some menus and bumps into a busty female, “sorry I am wasted as sis, but choice knockers, those things are mean as”. She flicks him back a smile. Temuera continues his dance of smoothness, “show me your tits, bitch”. She declines his chivalrous invitation. Temuera is confused, in Rotorua, he used the exact same line on Jake’s cousin and banged her in his uncle’s car out outside the dairy. Oh well, he orders four servings of fish and chips to ease the blow.

The men drink heavily while trying to solicit their scaffolding services to anyone that comes within ears-reach. “Going with any other scaffies would be stooooopid bro”, Temuera says while handing a crusty Australian drongo a hand-written business card that manages to spell his own name wrong. Temuera’s scaffolding success has little to do with his marketing techniques and much more to do with his passion for stealing other cunt’s scaffolding kit and thus saving him thousands on overheads.

On their way out Jake is momentarily angered by his reflection, which he thinks is some fulla staring at him, he turns to Temuera, “you munched way more tartare sauce then me, you poaka momona” . Temuara responds, “hoihoi you taka tapuhi, I’m gonna give you a crack ay”. The pair finish their lovely afternoon with a brotherly scrap in The Saints car park, which will go down in history as the messiest exchange of haymaker swings you are ever likely to witness. Go hard or go home ay G?

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