The Real Housewives of Perth - Part 1

Now we ain’t saying she’s a gold miner, but she ain’t fucking with no broke digger.

In fact, Lily married a man that dug so well that the value of his mines exploded like they were in a Vietnamese jungle.

Sadly, she had to let the private dog chef go the other day. He had the audacity of bringing home Woolworth’s rump steak for her needy, yapping dogs that you wouldn’t hesitate to send on a one way trip to the Yulin Food Festival.

Seeing the peasant beg for his job was more satisfying than the Django Unchained role-play sex she has with her ‘coloured’ driver. Speaking of which, she needs to be driven to the boatshed immediately.

She swans in with a do-you-know-who-i-am swag and pushes straight to the front of queue at the butchers. Sure she knows it’s a cunt move but It’s about principle. Lining up is for poor people. If she lets this slide, then tomorrow she may as well be sleeping in the bowels of the Titanic, dancing a jig for her dinner. Or worse, shop at an IGA.

She demands $120 of eye fillet cut up into little chunks for her fur babies. Of course, she doesn’t buy any food for herself, as she likely feasts upon jerkied skin of former Au Pairs to her children that no longer talk to her. Probably.