A Day In The Life Of A Bloke Who Claims To Know Bikies

7:30 am – dig through the LV man bag I bought in Kuta for the breakfast of champions – a twirl on a pippy and a blast to the arse with some steroids that I bought off some sketchy kent at the gym. 

8:00 am – belt the living piss out of my bedroom door. Let that be a lesson to all the other fixtures and fittings that might disrespect me. 

8:30 am – YouTube some of my favourite scenes of Sons of Anarchy. Tell myself that I’ll be nominated one day. Positive affirmations, brah.

9:00 am – get the misso to tell the debt collectors I don’t live here anymore. Wait until the coast is clear and start polishing me Harley on the front lawn. No one’s gonna take away my baby. 

9:30 am – misso screaming at me to go find a job. Settle for selling a coupla teenagers some gear outside Rocko Centre. Rip em off pretty bad. What are they gonna do about it? 

10:30 am – time for Muay Thai training. Spend the entire session talking over the instructor and telling him how I can kick bamboo with my shins. Suffer a minor fracture trying to replicate it on a wooden support beam. 

11:30 am – thoroughly comb The West Australian to see if they have written about me yet. Alas, my legend alludes them once more. Tear up the paper in a fit of rage.

12 – 2 pm – farken shin is killing me. Enjoy a long lunch of 10 Jack & Coke stubbies and I vape heavily. Spend most of the session trying to catch weak dogs looking at me. 

2:30 pm – quick top up of gear in the toilet and I’m charging. Start several fights on me local FB page and brag about my connections. Promise to attend 3 different residents to knock blocks off. I don’t.

3:00 pm – Feeling like king fkn kong now, mate. Decide to hit some pawn shops to get a good deal on a gold-plated chain. Spot a piece of shit Zamels chain. Tell him he’ll give it to me for $35 or I’ll get all my boys down to have a chat with him. He calls my bluff.

3:30 pm – smash a rental scooter up to regain some masculinity after being punked by the pawn shop man. Everyone watching knows not to fark with me. 

4:30 pm – realise I forgot to pick up me kid from school again. Ignore the essay the ex sent me calling me a bad dad. How can I be bad when I’m feeling so good?

6:00 pm – head round to a mate who just got released from prison’s house. Scamming pensioners with a unnecessary tree lopping services. Real staunch shit mate. Get farked up. I assault his mate who called my prison stories bullshit. They were but he didn’t know that. 

7:30 pm – time to splash some cash at Crown. Got me “gold” Nikon on so you know it’s baller time. Disagree with the result of the roulette wheel and attempt to take my chips back. 

8:30 pm – several seccys are closing in on me. Rip off my shirt and loudly ask them if they know who they are farking with. Rant & rave about being connected as they drag me from the gaming floor. 

8:45 pm –  I have found myself pepper sprayed, tased, cuffed and in the back of a paddy wagon. The cops haven’t found my gear yet as its nestled safely up the clacker. The ol Hakea haemmoroid.

10:45 pm – misso bails me out. I’d be happy to see her but I’ve been holding in a shit for the last 3 hours. Make a mess of her Suzuki Swift. A row ensues over why I just shat myself in her car. Women, right?

11:45 pm – ignore the thick shit smell as I have a quick bedtime pippy followed by 3 hours of shadow boxing and watching TikToks from ex-criminals. I pretend I can relate. 

3:45 am – try to con some sleep. End up staring at the ceiling for 3 hours thinking about the day those Bikies in Rocko ask me to join their club. Don’t tell anyone but I wank until 6 am to the thought.

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