The Worst of Perth

Mundaring Weir. Look lock and leave to be sure, but you don’t expect them to fucking steal the word weir! When I was growing up we all used to leave our weir signs unlocked! We were so innocent back then. Before Cloud Street I mean. You remember? When Mundaring weir used to overflow every winter like a thousand bush dunnies flushing – the old Lesmurdie cisterns, not the long drops obviously , and the dunny floor would be full of dried pepper tree leaves and the cicadas going full bore like chainsaws outside through the wired glass with the rust busting through. And you could hear the snort of the tyres as old man Ranford reversed in the gravel carpark  below- the only time that chickenshit falcon donk would ever spin the wheels. You remember? You must do.