I want flames, but just a little flame, like a candle. Something to suggest I might travel 5k’s over the limit. Reminds me of the flaming Falcon. A Melbourne Worst from Meccano.
And regards vehicles, Rolly was pleased in a schaudenfraude sort of way by these tradies getting their Hilux stuck in Scarborough.
Maja submitted this in Redcliffe for worst garden. I like the new roof contrasting with the junk garden. Perhaps it’s a work in progress and they are getting to the garden now the roof is done. Thanks Maja.
And Hugh Jass is going nyuk nyuk, Forrestfield – Bogan, get it? Thanks HughJ.
Ahh back to work Monday. Worst well this weekend.
The Worst of Perth 
No comments? This is outrageous.
Bogans bog-lapping
Bogged next to a bogan villa:
Boggy and sour.
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Schadenfreude is my favourite kind of freude.
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The joy of the dune
Four on the floor is useless
Bogan a no-go.
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DFOC,
Six-speeder, mate, with a mob of rather expensive “upgrades”.
No doubt all put down as a tax deduction.
Like “free-to-air” commercial radio, TV corporate sponsorship, it the customer who ultimately pays.
The principle of “fair go”: You pay the fare and I’ll go.
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The tradies need to take a tax deductible course in 4X4 driving. There was no way it was getting safely down that sandy ridge.
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DFOC summarizes all the issues nicely. “Bogo a no go” Yeah !
However Barra hasn’t been mentioned much lately ( not even for the truly luminescent Ferris wheel ) so I offer this modest decomposition.
” A pome in no movement” :
Ad said it would go
Bogan Barras’ no movement
Hilux lifestyle
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Errato the clown says last line should be
Hiluxury style
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But it did, margeryx, it did.
I think that the driver had probably had a fair bit of practice at driving in abnormal conditions and was just testing out his new modifications.
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Ah Forrestfield,
Memories recur of wasted nights, wasted, wandering the streets, bottle of bourbon in one hand, bottle of cola in the other. Swig from one, swig from the other, then gargle.
Somebody’s mate (whom they work with at Coles) is bringing his Commodore to the McDonald’s carpark, that we may gaze upon it’s eight cyllinders and dream of a time in which we will get our own driver’s licences.
Let’s egg some houses.
My youth was definitely time well spent.
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You forgot the can-bongs at Hartfield Park, and chucking stuff over fences in the laneways.
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Bento! A fellow fieldian?
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I lived in the hills, but indulged my darker desires with like-minded Forrestferals.
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