“Aw Cheryl, I’ve gone and bloody torn me good shorts”, Daryl laments as he hastily prepares for the event of the year: The IGA Perth Royal Show. Daryl quickly gets over his garment woes: it’s Royal Show time, and he has been putting $50 a month aside from his WorkSafe payments since January. He loads his large-eared and small-eyed brood in his step-mother's 1999 Torago and heads towards the Claremont Showgrounds. The herd is rolling towards greener pastures.
Daryl leads the charge, like a bloated King Leonardis. His wallet is brimming with a fat stack of pineapples. They haven’t been there 5 minutes before each of his 4 kids has a battered sausage in their hands. Daryl and Cheryl treat themselves to a top-shelf snack though: chicken satay burgers with a large chips each. Afterall, it’s a celebration. Daryl’s enthusiasm is higher than Cheryl’s cargo shorts: which are locked in a fierce battle with her gunt. His beard is covered in satay sauce, “saving it for later ay HA HA”.
Daryl’s offspring misbehave on the rides while Daryl laughs from the sidelines. Turns out all those years of Bathurst 1000 and Woodstocks have rendered him too “hefty” to participate in the rides. No biggie, Daryl’s flabby arm is primed to dominate the sideshows. He understands the mind of the carnie, he dominates a dart-based game, he wins Cheryl an oversized banana wearing a Rastafarian beanie. Fuck yeh. He reaches into his Piping Hot backpack and pulls out a Woodstock. The bourbon and coke that doesn’t reach his mouth cascades down his proud girth. He is the hero of the day.
The herd drifts through the Show, ever consuming, ever commenting on shit in that poetic bogan way, “check out that duck, fucking retarded bird ay”. Ah yes, an astute observation Daryl. Enough of the faggy animals, it’s time to hit the showbags. Dont kid yourself, Daryl and his herd are not amateurs, they have studied the showbag guide since it first came out, they know whats up. 48 Bertie Beetle bags, 10 Coke showbages, 5 Gag Magics, and a virtual rainbow of confectionary based bags. Enough sugar to fuel his delinquent children for months. Hey, they are going to be toothless like dad soon anyway, why not expedite the process.
Daryl hugs Cheryl while the herd watch the fireworks. It’s a family moment. “I am going to finger-bash the blue eye-shadow off you later sweet tits”, Cheryl hugs her oversized toy banana, smitten and reborn in the majesty of the moment.
What an awfully written piece of shit this is..
Battlin the gunt, it's a daily operation
Sho us summing uve writen then kunty
I really enjoyed this place and you can definitely find me here for more events. I didn't eat anything when on my recent visit to the event space, but those around me had truffle fries, pizza, and wings all seemed to enjoy.