Slaughter of the Cocos

This time it’s personal. Is there a facebook group “How can the Tree Man claim to be a tree lover when he’s got fucking Cocos Palms in his own garden. Bento saw this sight to warm the cockles of all true Cocos haters. Tree Man. Deal with your Cocos and THEN come back and tell us what trees should stay or go. And stay dead this time.

About The Lazy Aussie

Commended Haiku writer. A lover of The West's Worst. Perth stand-up comedian, photographer and writer.
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44 Responses to Slaughter of the Cocos

  1. shazza says:

    An absolute best.

    As a Freo tree hugger I loathe, along with all right thinking people, the Cocos. And now also passionately loathe Thornlie tree man. Particularly after hearing an interview on 720 last week with a neighbour. Apparently the council approached all residents of the street about removing the trees as residents had experienced limbs falling onto cars etc. And only three people on the entire street objected. Tree guy being one.

    The guy is just attention seeking. Get down, and get fucked Richard.


  2. vegan says:

    there are now two tree men…


  3. David Cohen says:

    I shudder to think why Bento was in Thornlie.

    Come on Bento: come clean and admit the purpose of your shadowy lurkings down there.


    • shazza says:

      You drive through Thornlie on your way to Maddington DFOC.


    • Bento says:

      You ask a lot of questions for a man who found himself in Coodanup, Outrage.

      But fear not – this pic was actually taken in civilisation – I get the sweats if I venture too far from the Beaufort Street Arrondissement. I thought it was pic-worthy as the slaughterer clearly took to the offending tree zombie-style, hacking it into small pieces to ensure it did not reanimate.


  4. Pfortner says:

    Bento leaned back upon his silken bier, bronzed thews shifting like those of a languid panther well-sated on the fresh blood of lesser beings, and finishing his draught with a mighty breath of satisfaction, gave voice to his thoughts.
    “I have known many gods. He who denies them is as blind as he who trusts them too deeply. I seek not beyond death. It may be the blackness averred by the TWOP skeptics, or Erceg’s realm of ice and cloud, or the tarmaced plains and vaulted halls of the Morleyan’s Galleria. I know not, nor do I care. Let me live deep while I live; let me know the rich juices of a Mrs Mac’s and stinging Export on my palate, the hot embrace of pink, chapped arms, the mad exultation of battle against the loathesome cocos, when the blue blades flame and scatter the air with irritating fibers, and I am content. Let teachers and philosophers brood over questions of reality and illusion. I know this: if life is illusion, then I am no less an illusion, and being thus, the illusion is real to me. I live, I burn with life, I love, I slay the wretched cocos and chop them down into segments, and am content.


  5. Mez says:

    I think we must be on a waxining moon because there seems to be a lot of aggro in the air tonight (‘cept from you Shaz ;) but I’m afraid I’m going to put my head above the parapet and declare myself the owner of TWO cocos palms. Now, I did not plant them, they were here when I moved to MezCentral WGV and they were sorry sorry sights. I was going to get rid of them immediately but, well, the kitchen renos cost more than we thought and there really wasn’t much in the garden anyway… so I learnt to live with them. Life was busy (jetsetting artist that I am) and there was so much more to do around the house… then, a strange thing happened. Each morning I would look out the back door and hate them less, it was a sort of reverse Dorian Gray-ish paradigm. As I got older, uglier and more cynical, the cocos became fresh, verdant and kind of… tropical – gooood moring Mez – they would whisper to me as I had a coffee – heeeeere comes the seabreaze! – they would proudly shuffle in the afternoon. I planted lawn, geraniums, yukkas, succulents. I have learnt to love my cocos, as messy as they are, I have learnt to embrace my out of place tropical anomolies and if they EVER decide to build that bypass – I’m going to Pennicuik myself to one of them and chuck coconuts at the bulldozer.
    There, I’ve said it, I’m a cocos man and I will die a cocos man!

    I have been drinking


  6. The Legend 101 says:

    Someone i know lives in the same suburb as the tree man and the put a go green leaflet in his letterbox we don’t know if he ever found it in there and it was a joke to annoy him anyway.


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