A Day In The Life Of A High Wycombe Gentleman

6:30 am– I Wake up to the Wyckie alarm clock – a sleep-dodging crackie laying a fat skid outside me house. I race to me CCTV monitor to see if I got the dog’s licence plate this time. Alas, he alludes me once more. 

7:00 am  – Next, I fish me unwashed Hi-Vis out of the laundry basket and treat myself to a thumb-packed cone from the bucket I’ve got set up in the sink. Treat the neighbours to a three and a half minute coughing fit followed by hocking up a powerful man-loogie in the backyard. Putting the High in High Wycombe.

7:15am – I sit in me piece of shit Commodore “warming her up” for 15 minutes before heading straight to the cheese sausage emporium for brekkie. Grab as many as they got and wash it down with a Monster and a Dare. Double banging it.

7:45 am  – The effects of the chilli cheese kransky are launching a final push towards me ‘ole. So I arrive at the workshop and destroy the toilet. No prisoners. No mercy. Boss smells what I done and asks me to take the day off to get better. Don’t need to twist my arm. 

8:00 am – 12:30 pm – 3 more buckets and a little power kip. I keep me workwear on just in case someone thinks I might be doing fuckall with me day. Then I wake up and rub one to one of those birds on the day time telly. Figure it’s time to start me day. 

1:30 pm – Take me staffy down to the park and let the cunny go ha ha. I’ll get into at least 2 – 3 blues with some mothers over me dog running amok but I tell em he’s friendly and I’ll boot their little fkn rat dog if she takes me photo again. Don’t pick up any of the boy’s shit.  More on staffy owners HERE.

2:00 pm – Get home and let the dog bark all day while I get in me car and track down some dodgy looking youths I seen at the park. Take plenty of photos and then hit the bottlo. 10 pack of Wild Turkey 101 should get the job done. Grab an 11th can for the ride home.

2:30 – 3:30 pm  – Time to light me fireplace to piss off all the woke crybaby snowflakes. Jump on FB for a name & shame and argument with strangers for a few hours. Threaten to belt the shit out of someone telling me to take the kid’s photos down. Have no intention of doing so. 

5 pm – Meet the misso after work at the Wyckie for $7 pints. Lie about working and eat ¾ of her chips. She asked me about the threats I was making on FB. Can tell she’s up for a poke. Suggest we take this party to the car park for the return of me world famous finger-fest. Ha ha, she loves it. 

7 pm – Dinner time so it’s off to Hungry Jacks to take out me days frustrations on the teenagers working there. They can never get me order right so I reckon it’s justified ya know. Plus it’s an important lesson from the school of hard knocks ha ha. Yeah, lock the doors on me again ya little cun…

7:30 – 10:30 – Smash the remaining 101s and start fights in me FB groups until I’ve got all me alt-accounts banned. Then it’s time to finish what I started with the misso in the car park. Not sure if it’s love in the air or the fish fingos she cooked up for a post root snack but fish is all around me mate. Fish is all around me. 

More stories from Perth’s suburbs HERE.

Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?