School Holidays Invaders
It’s been scientifically proven that a ferry full of crying children will bring on feelings of sea sickness faster than a tsunami. If you can, avoid the island during the school holidays at all costs. It will be teeming with little piss-pants and parents with a discipline allergy.
Furthermore, it is infinitely harder to ride your hire bike home sauced when you have children clogging up the island like it was the drain of an Italian group shower.
The dad sports a long-sleeved Polo with speedos, the wife is technically classed as a flotation device given the amount of “enhancements” she’s had, and the son really knows his way around a “my daddy will sue you” threat.
When they aren’t on their boat, they are judging the island peasantry for doing Rotto wrong: having to rent bikes, not owning paddleboards or the ultimate indignity of staying in budget accommodation. You are the gum on his boat shoe, stay out of his way, champ.
When his dad is too busy to make an elitist knob of himself, he’ll send in his son to do the heavy lifting. These individuals spend most of their holiday trying to convince Ms Rottofornia types that they, in fact, own the boat.
Typically, they are responsible for more insurance claims than a Perth hail storm. This is largely because they find it difficult to balance their delusions of nautical competence and amateur DJ ability.
This lad is easily identified by the yewww’ing coming from the ferry port as he charges onto the island with a carton of piss on his shoulder. He hasn’t bothered to bring a change of clothes so get used to the smell from those piss-stained boardies.
He and his smooth-brain mates intend to make the most of the island by engaging in activities like drinking outside their place, drinking at the beach, drinking at the pub, riding a stolen bike into a tree and finally become public enemy #1 when they kick a Quokka. Oh, and on the ferry home, he will be evacuating body fluids like he has super ebola.
Rotto is the undisputed premier location for like-whoring on Instagram. Ms Rottofornia will immediately fall into a #blessed trance as she loses controld like an American with an automatic selfie sub machinegun.
Boat shots, beach shots, cocktail shots and of course the mandatory #quokkaselfie, which if she’s being honest isn’t the first little hairy thing she’d had to put her mouth near for a little Insta-fame.
The Glamping Tourist
If they aren’t taking advantage of the new $350 per night glamping tents they are holed up in the lodge. When they venture out, they take the notion of slip, slop, slap to a frighteningly diligent level and dodge the vitamin D like a vampiric lesbian.
On their adventures they enjoy pointing at Quokkas, taking photos of anything and marvelling at the Rotto bakery pie, an exotic delicacy that has helped slay the demon of an island hangover for generations of West Aussies.
Like a SAS commando, his mission in life is to execute a reconnaissance mission on YOUR cray pots. This wet-suited wanker will risk a spear-gunning, public shaming and the ire of the Department of Fisheries for the chance to make a few bucks off another bloke’s hard work.
When he’s not flogging crustaceans, he’s probably taking flowers from roadside memorials, or just grabbing a few tins of baked beans from the Chrissy food drive. Scoundrel.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?