Yes. By Slanderer.
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The Worst of Perth 
“Ohhhhh, the huge manatea” What a disaster.
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Now a blind white dugong infuser – I’d get a gross of those.
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#notaeuphemism
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As a long time Lurker I have been stirred to reply as this is one of the best things I have seen on this site.
Time to smash a couple Jacks, fire up the Brute and do some bog laps of Midland to see if I can find a couple for the tea drinking Nancy boys out on site.
Vibrant as, brah!
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Yes, I stuffed mine full of camomile and settled down to read Cloudstreet in one sitting. Wait, where was I?
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You have a flattie up your arse and a bongo van parked in ledge point.
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Gran called them Tea Cows. She was a goodun Gran, always pushed our talents. Now Tim, she’d say, you must promise me you’ll never hide your dugong under a bushells. Yeeees Gran-maaa I’d reply. Life was that simple.
One day she took me to Tea World on the Gold Coast. While the dolphins were jumping through their hoops, the dugongs lazily hooked their flippers on the edge of the pool, gazing into the distance, dreaming of their emerald teagrass meadows. They looked like E-Tea. These were my people. They were fucking ugly. One day I would write about them.
This would be my Baptism. I stripped down to my underdaks and took my boogie board down to the dugongs to pray, leaving my duckydubble on the side of the pool for later. Sacramental. I was being born again. Sorry mum.
My duckydubble was melting into full spectrum vomit, elemental colours expanding from a lime centre, wisps of raz swirling outwards only to dissolve on the baking tiles. I didn’t know it then, but I was being shaped by my continent. You know the one. Wide. Brown. Girt. Together we’d swim and surf, surf and swim and sing my Chailand Home. Inexorably.
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Chiaking respect.
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