Perth used to have a fever, and the only prescription was the Masters Milk Carton Regatta. An event where the dairy guzzling hordes of Perth would descend upon Hillarys to race watercraft made predominantly from cardboard milk cartons.
This annual event made Christmas Day look like a Tinder date with an accountant with a penchant for cross fit. Nothing could top the excitement of watching the poorly constructed dreams of ambitious bogans fall apart in front of your very eyes as they paddled furiously against the ever imposing burden of buoyancy.
Of course, not all watercraft fell apart like a new Perth Children’s Hospital, oh no, some people took this really fucking seriously. Like. Really seriously. High on lactose and crippled by hubristic thoughts of conquering the ocean, parents would demand their children consume milk like a calf had wandered into a glory hole suckatorium.
When their own family failed them, they would relentlessly hound anyone they knew for their spare milk cartons. They’d be reconnecting with you like an unemployed thunder-arse with an exciting essential oil business opportunity for you.
Of course, when diplomatic attempts at salvaging cartons failed they’d just sift through random rubbish like Nickleback playlist set on shuffle. Sure, digging through someone’s bin may seem to lack dignity but clearly, the vicious claws of regatta fiending had never lodged themselves into your soul.
Of course, it wasn’t long until the impotent power of OH&S swept over the nation and drained the blood of excitement from Perth’s regatta stiffy. Perhaps it was an insurance nightmare, or perhaps the demise of the 2L cardboard carton is to blame. Frankly, the City is owed answers.
Have we been the same since the event ceased in 2001? Has guzzling milk merely become the domain of Baysie bashing truckies and portaloo slurrying tradies? Did we rob the grandeur from the pursuit of excessive milk consumption?
Perhaps, but they say if you catch a sparkle on the Hillarys’ Harbour at the right time, you can momentarily forget you paid $45 for fish and chips & a beer and remember life before OH&S shitbirds shat all over it.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?