Bentley.
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The Worst of Perth 
It’s no use trying to hide, Professor Gallop.
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gold
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No.
West is clearly worst.
We’ve had Palm Fronds, we’ve had Graffi- TV and now a Graffi- Tree.
What’s next? Graffi- Tea? Graffi- Pee?
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erm… Palm Fronds…
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Graffi-Pee, WAtching ? Any Australian boy, and probably girl, who hasn’t practised writing their name on a picket fence in a lane should be put on a boat to East Timor.
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I don’t understand what the fuck I am looking at.
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Some kind of bogan shrine deep in the badlands mulch pits of Curtin.
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Oh but it’s something more than that, it’s a map of our entire civilization
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Here’s a hint, Bento.
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What do we do with that pile of building rubble?
Put some mulch & a hat on it, call it a feature…
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What happened to “Up The….” from the hat?
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mmmm… Duff
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Oh bogan Gods of the night,
Youse who rejoicest in the baying of staffies
And the spilling of beer;
Who wanderest in the midst of the shade of Holdens:
Warnie! Boonie!
Look favorably upon our sacrifices!
Ia, Ia, Twiggy ftaghn!
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“Twiggy ftaghn!” is that Klingon?
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See your own post here, TLA.
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Without wanting to give away too many of the 313 Secrets, I think you’ll find that’s Tarvunian.
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JWs just knocked on my door – that’s what you get for messing with the Old Ones.
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lol did they stink of fish?
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And don’t refer to The Old Ones as The Old Cunts. Boy did I learn my lesson the hard way.
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When the stars are right, the Future Cunts fuck you…
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Looks more like Ancient Ogham to me.
Lots of it where I came from, but I remain illiterate in the script.
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I remember
The bungalows, masking slopes of sombre hills;
The pink smog’s leaden everlasting arch;
The algal blooms that curdled in the Swan,
And aircraft noise that screamed between the passes.
Estates upon swamps encroaching, rooves on rooves,
Plain beyond plain, each bland with Colorbond,
Our gaunt land lay. So when a man climbed up
To scrawl ‘Pedo’ and gazed, his shaded eye
Saw but the endless vista- tarnished still,
Ute upon ute, each ugly as the other.
It was gloomy land that seemed to glow
With traffic haze and corrugated steel,
With goon bags rattling in the lonesome winds,
And the dark woodlands brooding over all,
Forever blighted by the burning sun
Which made squat shadows out of men; they called it
Perth, the land of Bogans and their Pride.
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Excellent, J-J.
I was thinking a more modern (Yeats) vibe but I tips me lid.
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Lovely!
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Holy Snappin’ Duckfish!
How perfectly profound!
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WTF , traitors . Emu export is best.
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This would never happen at UWA.
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Unless done by an artist in residence.
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no, you need real cojones to create something like that.
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or a senior lecturer
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I’d have scrawled “Inseminators 2010” on it and entered the contest.
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Jim Morrison meets Homer Simpson
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Well, if that’s true then there is only one thing to do:
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